IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


4 

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^■A,  ^. 


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Zc 

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10    If  1^  1^ 

I  I.I    f."^  1^ 

11-25  IIIIII.4   IIIIII.6 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WiST  MAIN  STRECT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


its 


(/. 


& 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


\ 


\ 


^ 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  umy  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 


D 
D 


n 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag6e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pelliculde 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  gdographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I      I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

Lareliure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  int^rieure 

Blank  leav£  i  aided  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutdes 
iors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6ti  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquds  ci-dessous. 


□   Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 

0    Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 

I      I    Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film6  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 


Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicolordes,  tachet6es  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Quality  inigale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  matdriel  suppldmentaire 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t6  film^es  d  nouveau  de  fapon  A 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


The  copy 
to  the  ge 


The  imag 
possible  I 
of  the  orl 
filming  ci 


Original  < 
beginnini 
the  last  p 
sion.  or  t 
other  orl] 
first  pagi 
slon.  and 
or  illustn 


10X 

14X 

18X 

Z2X 

26X 

30X 

X 

12X                             16X                             20X                             24X                             28X                             32X 

The  iMt  I 
shall  con 
TINUED" 
whichevi 

Maps,  pli 
different 
entirely  ii 
beginning 
right  and 
required, 
method: 


lire 

details 
les  du 
modifier 
jer  une 
filmage 


6es 


The  copy  filmed  here  hae  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

University  of  Allierta 
Edmonton 

The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  bacic  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impree- 
sion.  and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  «^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED").  or  the  symbol  ▼  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


L'exemplaire  filmA  fut  reproduit  grice  A  la 
gAnArositA  de: 

University  of  Alberta 
Edmonton 

Les  images  suivantes  ont  6ti  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tsnu  de  la  condition  et 
de  la  nettet*  de  l'exemplaire  film«,  et  on 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim^e  sont  fiimis  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlire  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous.les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  film  to  en  commenpant  par  la 
p»4mi*re  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  ot  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  dee  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  le 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 


re 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  redt'ction  retios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  Illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmto  A  des  taux  de  rMuction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  il  est  f  ilmi  it  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  on  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m^hode. 


y  errata 
td  to 

nt 

le  pelure, 

pen  it 


n 


1 

2 

3 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Chata  and  Chinita 


^  Bobel 


BY 


LOUISE  PALMER  HEAVEN 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1889 


Copyright,  1889, 
By  Louise  Palmer  Heaven. 


Ail  rights  reserved. 


SdtUrmiUg  ^tnn: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridgb. 


LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  ALBERTA 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


—    ♦ 


I. 


On  an  evening  in  May,  some  forty  years  ago,  Tio  Pedro, 
tlie  porter o^  or  gate-keeper,  of  Tres  Hermanos,  had  loos- 
ened the  iron  bolts  that  held  back  the  great  doors  against 
the  massive  stone  walls,  and  was  about  to  close  the  ha- 
cienda buildings  for  the  night,  when  a  traveller,  humbly 
dressed  in  a  shabby  suit  of  buff  leather,  urged  his  weary 
mule  up  the  road  from  the  village,  and  pulling  off  his 
wide  sombrero  of  woven  grass,  asked  in  the  name  of 
God  for  food  and  shelter. 

Pedro  glanced  at  him  sourly  enough  from  beneath  his 
broad  felt-hat,  ga}'^  with  a  silver  cord  and  heavy  tassels. 
The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  flashed  in  his  ej^es,  allow- 
ing him  but  an  uncertain  glimpse  of  the  dark  face  of  the 
stranger,  though  the  shabby  and  forlorn  aspect  of  both 
man  and  beast  were  sufficiently  apparent  to  warn  him 
from  forcing  an  appearance  of  courtesy,  and  he  muttered, 
grumblingly,  — 


4( 


Pass  in !  Pass  in  I  See  you  not  I  am  in  a  hurry  ? 
God  save  us !  Am  I  to  stand  all  night  waiting  on  j'^our 
lordship?  Another  moment,  friend,  and  the  gate  would 
have  been  shut.  By  my  patron  saint,"  he  added  in  a  lower 
tone,  "  it  would  have  been  small  grief  to  me  to  have  turned 
the  key  upon  thee  and  thy  beast.  By  ^jhy  looks,  Tia  Selsa's 
mud  hut  for  thee^,  and  the  shade  of  n,  mesquite  for  thy 
mule,  would  have  suited  all  needs  well  enough.  But  since 
it  is  the  will  of  the  saints  that  thou  comest  here,  why  get 
thee  in." 

"  Eheu ! "  ejaculated  a  woman  who  stood  b,y,  "  what 
makes  thee  so  spiteful  to-night,  Tio  Pedro,  as  if  the  bit  and 
sup  were  to  be  of  thy  providing?  Thou  knowest  well 
enough  that  Dofia  Isabel  herself  has  given  orders  that  no 
wayftirer  shall  be  turned  from  her  door !  " 

1 


L    1 


oe 


o 

«. 


2  CI/ATA   AND  CinJVITA. 

"Get  thee  to  thy  hand-mill,  gossip!"  cried  the  gate- 
keeper, angrily.  "  Tiiis  new-comer  will  add  a  luindlul  of 
corn  to  thy  stint  'or  grinding  ;  he  has  a  mouth  for  a  (fordo, 
believe  me." 

The  woman,  thus  reminded  of  her  duty,  hurried  away 
amid  the  Ir  ughter  of  the  idlers,  who,  lounging  against  tiio 
outer  walls  or  upon  the  stone  benches  in  the  wide  arch- 
wa}"^,  exchanged  quips  and  jests  with  Pedro,  one  by  one 
presentl}^  sauntering  away  to  the  dilferent  courtyards 
within  tl)j  nacienda  walls  or  to  tlieii*  own  homes  in  the 
grass-tuatched  village,  above  which  the  grea,t  building  rose 
at  once  overshadowingly  and  protectingly. 

The  stranger,  thus  doubtfully  welcomed,  urged  his  mule 
across  the  threshold,  throwing,  as  he  entered,  keen  glances 
around  the  wide  space  between  the  two  arches,  and  beyond 
into  the  dim  court  •,  and  especially  upon  the  rows  of  stuffed 
animals  ranged  r  i  'he  walls,  and  upon  the  enormous  snakes 
pendent  on  either  side  the  inner  dof^'-wny,  twining  in  hide- 
ous folds  above  it,  and  even  enci  cling  the  tawdry'  image 
of  the  Virgin  and  child  by  which  the  arch  was  surmounted. 
These  trophies,  brought  in  by  the  husbandmen  and  shep- 
herds and  prei)ared  with  no  unskilful  hands,  gave  a  grim 
aspect  to  the  entrance  of  a  house  where  unstinted  hospi- 
tality was  dispensed,  the  sight  of  whose  welcoming  walls 
cheered  the  waj'farer  across  many  a  weary  league,  —  it 
being  the  only  habitation  of  importance  tr  be  seen  on  the 
extensive  pla.n  that  la}-  within  the  wici  .  circle  of  hills 
which  on  either  hand  lay  blue  and  sombre  la  the  distance. 
For  a  tew  moments,  indeed,  the  western  peaks  had  been 
lighted  up  b}'  tiie  effulgence  of  the  declining  sun  ;  the  'ast 
rays  streamed  into  the  vestibule  as  the  traveller  entered, 
then  were  suddenly  witiidrawn,  and  the  gray  chill  which 
fell  upon  the  valley  deepened  to  actual  duskiness  in  the 
court  to  which  he  penetrated. 

Careless  glances  followed  him,  as  he  rode  across  the 
broad  flagging,  picking  his  way  among  the  loinging  herds- 
men, who,  leaning  across  their  horses,  were  recounting 
the  adventures  of  the  day  or  leisurely  unsaddling.  He 
looked  around  him  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  uncertain 
where  to  go ;  but  each  one  was  too  busy  with  his  own  rffairs 
to  pay  any  attention  to  so  humble  a  wayfarer.  Nor,  indeed, 
did  he  seem  to  care  that  thoy  should  ;  on  the  contrary,  'le 


CHATA  AND  CiriNITA. 


8 


pnllod  his  hat  still  further  over  liis  brows,  and  with  Iiis 
dingy  striped  blanket  thrown  erossw'se  over  his  shonlder 
and  almost  muftling  his  lace,  foUowc  I  presently  a  con  fusee 
ntMse  of  horses  and  inen,  which  indicated  where  the  stal)les 
stood,  and  disappeared  within  a  narrow  doorway  leading 
to  an  inner  con  it. 

Meanwhile,  Tio  Pedro,  his  hands  on  the  gate,  still  stood 
exchanging  the  last  words  of  banter  and  gossip,  idl}'  de- 
laying the  moment  of  final  closure.  Of  all  those  human 
beings  gathered  there,  perhaps  no  one  of  them  appreciated 
the  magnificent  and  solemn  grandeur  by  which  they  were 
surrounded  any  more  than  did  the  cattle  that  lowed  in  the 
distance,  or  the  horses  that  ran  whinnying  to  the  stone 
walls  of  the  enclosures,  snutHng  eagerly  the  cool  night  air 
that  came  down  from  the  hills,  over  the  clear  stream  which 
rippled  under  the  shadow  of  the  cottonwood  trees,  across 
the  broad  fields  of  springing  corn  and  ripening  wheat,  and 
through  the  deep  green  of  the  plantations  of  chile  and 
beans  and  the  scented  orchards  of  mingled  fruits  of  the  tem- 
perate and  torrid  zones.  For  miles  it  thus  traversed  the 
unparalleled  fertility  of  the  liajio,  tiiat  Egypt  of  Mexico, 
which  feeds  the  thousands  who  toil  in  her  barren  hills  for 
silver  or  who  watch  the  herds  that  gather  a  precarious 
subsistence  upon  her  waterless  plains,  and  which  gives 
the  revenues  of  princes  to  its  lordly  proprietors,  who  scatter 
them  with  lavish  hands  in  distant  cities  and  coimtrics,  and 
with  smiling  mockery  dole  the  scant  necessities  of  life  to 
the  toiling  thousands  who  live  and  die  upon  the  soil. 

Man}'  are  these  fertile  expanses,  w-hioh,  entered  upon 
through  some  deep  and  rugged  defile,  lie  like  ami)liitlic- 
atres  inclosed  by  jagged  and  massive  walls  of  breseia  and 
porphyr}^  that  rise  in  a  thousand  grotesque  shapes  above 
their  bases  of  green,  —  at  a  near  view  showing  all  the 
varying  shades  of  gray,  yellow,  and  brown,  and  in  the  dis- 
tance deep  purples  and  blues,  which  blend  into  the  clear 
azure  of  the  sky.  One  of  tlic  most  beautiful  of  such  spots 
is  that  in  which  lay  the  hacienda  or  estates  of  the  family  of 
Garcia,  and  one  of  the  most  marvellously  rich ;  for  there 
even  the  verv  rocks  yield  a  tribute,  the  mine  of  the 
Three  Brothers  —  the  "  Tres  Ilermanos"  —  being  one  of 
those  which  at  the  Conquest  had  been  given  as  a  reward 
to  the  daring  adventurer  Don  Geronimo  Garcia.     It  was 


ClfATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


siirroundc'il  by  rich  lands,  which  unhocdcd  by  tlic  earliest 
proprietors,  later  yielded  the  most  important  returns  to 
their  descendants.  But  at  the  time  our  story  opens,  the 
mines  and  mills  of  Tres  Ilermanos,  though  they  added  a 
picturesque  element  to  the  landscape,  had  become  a  source 
of  perplexity  and  loss,  —  still  remaining,  however,  in  the 
opinion  of  their  owners,  a  proud  adjunct  to  the  vast 
stretches  of  field  and  orchard  which  encircled  them. 

The  minf!S  themselves  lay  in  the  scarred  mountain 
against  which  the  reduction-works  stood,  a  dingj'-  mass  of 
low-built  houses  and  high  adobe  walls,  from  tlie  midst  of 
which  ascended  the  great  chimney,  whence  clouds  of  sul- 
phurous smoke  often  rose  in  a  black  column  against  the  sky. 
These  buildings  made  a  striking  contrast  to  the  great  house, 
which  formed  the  nucleus  of  the  agricultural  interests  and 
was  the  chief  residence  of  the  proprietors,  and  whose  lofty 
^alls  rose  proudly,  forming  one  side  of  the  massive  adobe 
square,  which  was  broken  at  one  corner  by  a  box-towered 
church  and  on  another  by  a  flour-mill.  The  wheels  of 
this  mill  wer'?  turned  in  the  rainy  season  by  the  rapid 
waters  of  a  mountain  stream,  which  lower  down  passed 
through  the  beautiful  garden,  the  trees  of  which  waved 
above  the  fourth  corner  of  the  walls,  —  flowing  on,  to  be 
almost  lost  amid  the  slums  and  refuse  of  the  reduction- 
works  a  half-mile  awaj',  and  during  the  nine  dry  months 
of  the  year  leaving  a  chasm  of  loose  stones  and  yellow 
sand  to  mark  its  course.  Along  the  banks  were  scattered 
the  huts  of  workmen,  though,  with  strange  perversit}'-, 
tlie  greater  number  had  clustered  together  on  a  sandy 
declivity  almost  in  front  of  the  great  house,  discarding  the 
convenience  of  nearness  to  wood  and  water,  —  the  men, 
perliaps,  as  well  as  the  women,  preferring  to  be  where  all 
the  varied  life  of  the  great  house  might  pass  before  their 
eyes,  while  custom  made  pleasant  to  its  inmates  the  near- 
ness of  the  squalid  village,  with  its  throngs  of  bare-footed, 
half  nude,  and  wholl}'^  unkempt  inhabitants. 

These  few  words  of  description  have  perhaps  delaj^ed 
us  no  longer  than  Tio  Pedro  lingered  at  his  task  of  clos- 
ing tlie  great  doors  for  the  night,  leaving  however  a  little 
postern  ajar,  by  which  the  tardy  work-people  passed  in 
and  out,  and  at  which  the  children  boisterously  played 
hide-and-seek  (that  game  of  childhood   in  all  ages  and 


CI/ATA  AND  CI/INirA. 


5  a  source 


climes)  ;  and  mcnnwliilc,  as  has  been  said,  tlic  traveller 
found  and  took  his  way  to  the  Htables.  IJofore  enterini^, 
he  paused  a  moment  to  pull  the  red  handkerchief  that 
bound  his  head  still  further  over  his  bu.shy  black  brows, 
and  to  readjust  his  hat,  and  tlion  went  into  the  court  ui)on 
which  the  stiiUs  opened.  Finding  none  vacant  in  which  to 
place  his  mule,  he  tethered  it  in  a  corner  of  the  crowiled 
yard ;  and  then,  with  many  reverences  and  excuses,  such 
as  rancheros  or  villagers  are  apt  to  use,  asked  a  feed  of 
barley  and  an  armful  of  straw  from  the  "major-domo," 
who  was  giving  out  the  rations  for  the  night. 

"All  in  good  time!  All  in  good  time,  friend,"  an- 
swered this  functionary,  pompously  but  not  unkindly, 
"lie  who  would  gather  manna  must  wait  patiently  till 
it  falls." 

"  But  I  have  a  real  which  I  will  gladly  give,"  interrupted 
the  ranchero.  "  Your  grace  must  not  think  I  presume  to 
beg  of  your  bounty.     1 — " 

"  Tut !  tut !  "  interrupted  the  major-domo ;  "  dost  think 
we  arc  shop-keepers  or  Jews  here  at  Tres  Hermanos? 
Keep  thy  real  for  the  first  beggar  who  asks  an  alms;  "  and 
he  drew  himself  up  as  proudly  as  'f  all  the  grain  and  fod- 
der he  dispensed  were  his  own  personal  property.  "  But," 
ho  added,  with  a  curiosity  that  came  perhaps  from  the 
plebeian  suspicion  inseparable  from  his  stewardship,  *'  hast 
thou  come  far  to-day?  Thy  beast  seems  weary,  —  though 
as  far  as  that  goes  it  would  not  need  a  long  stretch  to  tire 
such  a  knock-kneed  brute." 

"  I  come  from  Las  Vigas,"  answered  the  traveller,  doff- 
ing his  hat  at  these  dubious  remarks,  as  though  they  were 
highly  complimentary.  "Saving  your  grace's  presence, 
the  mule  is  a  trusty  brute,  and  served  my  father  before 
me ;  but  like  your  servant,  he  is  unused  to  long  journeys, 
—  this  being  the  first  time  we  have  been  so  far  from  our 
birthplace.  Santo  Nino,  but  the  world  is  great !  Since 
noon  have  my  eyes  been  fixed  upon  the  magnificence  of 
your  grace's  dwelling-place,  and,  by  my  faith,  I  began  to 
think  it  one  of  the  enchanted  palaces  my  neighbor  Pablo 
Arteaga,  who  travels  to  Guadalajara,  and  I  know  not  where, 
to  buy  and  sell  earthenware,  tells  of!" 

The  major-domo  laughed,  not  displeased  with  the  hom- 
age paid  to  his  person  and  supposed  importance,  and 


6 


CI/ATA   AND   CUINITA. 


BuH'eiing  himself  to  be  amused  l)y  the  vilhijifer's  unusiiiil 
garruHLy.  Law  Vigas  he  knew  ol'as  a  tiny  viihige  perched 
among  the  elifl'ts  ol'  the  defile  UuuUiig  from  (jiianapihi, 
wlienee  fat  turkeys  were  takeu  to  market  on  feast-days, 
when  its  few  iniiahitaiits  went  down  to  licar  Mass,  and 
to  turn  an  honest  penny.  Tliey  were  a  harmless  people, 
these  poor  vilhigers,  and  he  felt  a  glow  of  charity  as  if 
warmed  by  some  personal  gift,  as  he  said.  "Take  a  fair 
share  of  barley  and  straw  for  thy  beast,  and  when  thou 
hast  given  it  to  him,  follow  me  into  the  kitchen,  and  thou 
shalt  not  hick  a  tortilla,  nor  frijoles  and  chile  wherewith 
to  season  it." 

"  May  your  grace  live  a  thousand  j'cars  I  "  began  the 
vilh'ger,  when  the  major-domo  interrupted  him. 

*'  What  is  thv  name?  So  bold  a  traveller  must  needs 
have  a  name. 

"  Surely,"  answered  the  villager,  gravely,  "and  Holy 
Church  gave  it  to  mc.  Juan  —  Juan  rianillos,  at  your 
service." 

The  major-domo  started,  laid  his  hand  on  the  knife  in 
his  belt,  then  withdrew  it  and  laughed.  "Truly  a  re- 
doubtable name,"  he  exclaimed  ;  then,  as  they  passed  into 
another  court  over  which  the  red  light  of  charcoal  fires 
east  a  lurid  glare,  illuminating  fantastically  the  groups  of 
men  who  were  crouching  in  various  attitudes  in  the  wide 
corridors,  awaiting  or  discussing  their  8ui)pers,  "  I  hope 
thou  wilt  prove  more  peaceful  than  thy  namesake :  a  very 
devil  they  say  is  he." 

The  villager  looked  at  him  stupidly,  and  then  with  in- 
terest at  the  women  who  were  doling  from  steaming  shal- 
low brown  basins  the  rations  of  beans  and  pork  with  red 
pepper,  —  a  generous  portion  of  which,  at  a  sign  from  the 
major-domo,  was  handed'  to  the  stranger,  who  looked 
around  for  a  convenient  spot  to  crouch  and  cat  it. 

The  major-domo  turned  away  abruptly,  muttering, 
"Juan  Planillos !  Juan  Planillos !  a  good  name  to  hang 
b}'.  What  animals  these  rancheros  are  !  Evidently  he 
has  never  heard  of  the  man  that  they  say  even  Santa 
Anna  himself  is  afraitl  of.  Well,  well,  Dofia  Isabel,  I 
have  obeyed  your  commands  1  What  can  be  the  reason 
of  this  caprice  for  knowing  the  name  and  business  of  ev- 
ery one  who  enters  her  gates  ?    In  the  old  time  every  one 


C II ATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


mi^lit  come  and  go  unquestioned ;  but  now  I  must  dc- 
8ciil)o  the  height  uud  breadth,  tlio  sound  of  tlie  voice,  tlie 
length  of  the  nose  even,  of  every  outcast  that  [Jasses  b}'." 

lie  disappeared  vvitlnn  anotlier  of  tlie  seemingly  endless 
range  of  courts,  perhaps  to  discharge  his  duty  of  reporter, 
and  certainly  a  little  later,  in  company  with  other  em- 
ployees of  the  estate,  to  partake  of  an  ample  supper,  and 
recount  to  Senor  Sanchez  the  administrador,  with  >nany 
variations  retlccting  greatly  on  his  own  wit  and  the  coun- 
tryman's stupidity,  the  interview  he  had  held  with  the 
traveller  from  Las  Vigas.  Any  variation  in  the  dail}'  re- 
cord of  a  country  life  is  hailed  with  pleasure,  however 
trilling  in  itself  it  may  be ;  and  even  Dona  Feliz,  the  ad- 
niinistrador's  grave  mother,  listened  with  a  smile,  and  did 
not  disdain  to  repeat  the  tale  in  her  visit  to  her  lady.  Dona 
Isabel,  which  according  to  her  usual  custom  she  made 
before  retiring  for  the  night. 

The  apartnn  nts  occui)ied  by  the  administrador  and  his 
family  were  a  part  of  those  wliich  had  been  appropriated 
to  the  use  of  the  proprietors  and  rulers  of  this  circle  of 
homes  within  a  home,  which  we  have  attempted  to  des- 
cribe. The  staircase  by  which  they  were  reached  rose, 
indeed,  from  an  inferior  court,  but  they  were  connected 
on  the  second  floor  by  a  gallery  ;  and  thus  the  inhabitants 
of  either  had  immediate  access  to  the  other,  although  the 
privacy  of  the  idling  family  was  most  rigidly  respected ; 
while  at  the  same  time  its  members  were  saved  from  the 
oppression  of  utter  isolation  which  their  separation  from 
the  more  occupied  portions  of  the  building  might  have  en- 
tailed. This  was  now  the  more  necessary,  as  one  by  one 
the  gentlemen  of  the  family  had,  for  various  reasons  or 
pretexts,  gone  to  the  cities  of  the  republic,  where  they 
spent  the  revenues  produced  by  the  hacienda  in  expensive 
living,  and  Doiia  Isabel  Garcia  de  Garcia,  — still  3'oung, 
still  eminently  attractive,  though  a  widow  of  ton  years 
standing,  — was  left  with  her  3'Oung  daughters,  not  only  to 
represent  the  family  and  dispense  the  hospitalit}*  of  Tres 
Ilermanos,  but  to  bear  the  burden  of  its  management. 

She  was  a  woman  who,  perhaps,  would  scarcely  bo  com- 
miserated in  this  position.  She  was  not,  like  most  of  her 
countrywomen,  soft,  indolent,  and  amiable,  a  creature  who 
loves  rather  than  commauds.     A  searching  gaze  into  the 


8 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


depths  of  her  dark  eyes  would  discover  fires  which  seldom 
leapt  within  the  glance  of  a  casual  observer.  Seemingly 
cold,  impassive,  grave  beyond  her  years,  Dofia  Isabel 
wielded  a  power  as  absolute  over  her  domains  as  ever  did 
veritable  queen  over  the  most  devoted  subjects.  Yet  this 
woman,  who  was  so  rich,  so  powerful,  upon  the  eve  on 
which  her  bounty  had  welcomed  an  unknown  pauper  to  her 
roof,  wa::  less  at  ease,  more  harassed,  more  burdened,  as 
she  stood  upon  her  balcony  looking  out  upon  the  vast  ex- 
tent and  variety  of  her  possessions,  than  the  poorest  peon 
who  daily  toiled  in  her  fields. 

Her  daughters  were  asleep,  or  reading  with  their  gover- 
ness ;  her  servants  were  scattered,  completing  the  tasks  of 
the  day ;  behind  her  stretched  the  long  range  of  apart- 
ments throughout  which,  with  little  attention  to  order, 
were  scattered  rich  articles  of  furniture,  —  a  grand  piano, 
glittering  mirrors,  valuable  paintings,  bedsteads  of  bronze 
hung  with  rich  curtains,  services  of  silver  for  toilette  and 
table,  —  indiscriminately  mixed  with  rush-bottomed  chairs 
of  home  manufacture,  tawdry  wooden  images  of  saints, 
waxen  and  clay  figures  more  grotesque  than  beautiful,  the 
whole  being  fain  Jy  illumined  by  the  flicker  of  a  few  can- 
dles in  rich  silver  holders,  black  from  neglect.  Doiiii 
Isabel  stood  with  her  back  to  them  all,  caring  for  nothing, 
heeding  nothing,  not  even  the  sense  of  utter  weariness  and 
desolation  which  presently  like  a  chill  swept  through  the 
vast  apartments,  and  issuing  thence,  enwrapped  her  as 
with  a  garment. 

She  leaned  against  the  stone  coping  of  the  window. 
Her  tall,  slender  figure,  draped  in  black,  was  sharply  out- 
lined against  the  wall,  which  began  to  grow  white  in  the 
moonlight ;  her  profile,  perfect  as  that  of  a  Greek  statue 
unsharpened  by  Time  yet  firm  as  Destiny,  was  reflected 
in  unwavering  lines  as  she  stood  motionless,  her  eyes 
turned  upon  the  walls  of  the  reduction- works,  hor  thoughts 
penetrating  beyond  them  and  concentrating  themselves 
on  one  whom  she  had  herself  placed  witliin, — who,  suc- 
cessful beyond  her  hopes  in  the  task  for  which  she  had 
selected  him,  yet  bafliled  and  harassed  her,  and  had  planted 
a  thorn  in  her  side,  which  at  any  cost  must  be  plucked 
thence,  must  be  utterly  destroyed. 

The  hour  was  still  an  early  one,  though  where  such  primi- 


)ed  her  as 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


9 


live  customs  prevailed  it  might  well  seem  late  to  her  when 
she  left  the  balcony  and  retired  to  her  room,  which  was 
somewhat  separated  from  those  of  the  other  members  of 
the  family,  though  within  immediate  call.  Soothed  bj'  the 
cool  air  of  the  night,  the  peace  that  brooded  over  village 
and  plain,  the  solemn  presence  of  the  everlasting  hills,  — 
those  voiceless  influences  of  Nature  which  she  had  in- 
breathed, rather  than  observed,  —  her  health  and  vigor 
triumphed  over  care,  and  she  slept. 


11. 


Meanwhile,  the  moon  had  risen  and  was  flooding  the 
broad  roofs  and  various  courts  of  the  great  buildings  with 
a  silvery  brilliancy,  which  contrasted  sharplv  with  the  ink}' 
shadows  cast  by  moving  creatures  or  solid  wall  or  mas- 
sive column.  While  it  was  early  in  the  evening,  the  sound 
of  voices  was  heard,  mingling  later  with  the  monotonous 
minor  ^ones  of  those  half-playful,  half-pathetic  airs  so 
dear  to  the  ear  and  heart  of  the  Mexican  peasantry ;  but 
as  night  approached,  silence  gradually  fell  upon  the  scene, 
broken  only  by  the  mutter  or  snore  of  some  heavy  sleeper, 
or  the  stamping  of  the  horses  and  mules  in  their  stalls. 

The  new-comer  Juan  Planillos,  who  had  joined  readily 
in  jest  and  song,  — though  his  wit  was  scarce  bright  enough, 
it  seemed,  to  attract  attention  to  the  speaker  (while  abso- 
lute silence  certainly  would  have  done  so), —  at  length,  fol- 
lowing the  example  of  those  around  him,  sought  the  shaded 
side  of  the  corridor,  and  wrapping  himself  in  his  striped 
blanket  la}'  down  a  little  apart  from  the  others,  and  was 
soon  fast  asleep. 

Men  who  are  accustomed  to  rise  before  or  with  the  dawn 
slee[)  heavily,  seldom  stirring  in  that  deep  lethargy  which 
at  midnight  falls  like  a  spell  on  weary  man  and  beast ;  yet 
it  was  precisely  at  that  hour  that  Juan  Planillos,  like  a 
man  who  had  composed  himself  to  sleep  with  a  definite 
purpose  to  arise  at  a  specified  time,  uncovered  his  face, 
raised  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  glancing  first  at  the  sky 
(reading  the  position  of  the  moon  and  stars),  threw  then  a 
keen  glance  at  the  piostrate  figures  around  him.  The  veiy 
dogs  —  of  which,  lean  and  mongrel  curs,  there  were  many 
—  like  the  men,  fearing  the  malefic  influences  of  the  rays  of 
the  moon,  had  retired  under  benches,  and  into  the  farthest 
corners,  and  upon  every  living  creature  profound  oblivion 
had  fallen. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  PlaniUos  could  thoroughly 
satisfy  himself  on  this  point,  but  that  accomplished,  he 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


11 


rose  to  his  feet,  leaving  tlic  sandals  that  he  had  worn  u^wn 
the  brick  floor,  and  with  extreme  care  pushing  open  the 
door  near  which  he  had  taken  the  precaution  to  station 
himself,  passed  into  the  first  and  larger  court,  which  he 
had  entered  upon  reaching  the  hacienda.  As  he  had  evi- 
dently expected,  he  found  this  court  entirely  deserted, 
although  in  the  vaulted  archway  at  the  farther  side  he 
divined  that  the  gate-keeper  lay  upon  his  sheepskin  in 
the  little  alcove  beside  the  great  door,  of  which  he  was  the 
guardian. 

As  lie  stepped  into  this  courtyard,  Juan  Planillos  paused 
to  draw  upon  his  feet  a  pair  of  thin  boots  of  yellow  leather, 
so  soft  and  pliable  that  they  woke  no  echo  from  the  solid 
paving,  and  still  keeping  in  the  shadow,  he  crossed  noise- 
lessly to  a  door  set  deep  in  a  carved  arch  of  stone,  and 
like  one  accustomed  to  its  rude  and  heavy  fastenings,  deftly 
undid  the  latch  and  looked  into  the  court  upon  which 
opened  the  private  apartments  of  the  famil}'  of  Garcia. 
He  stood  there  in  the  shadow  of  the  doorway,  still  dressed, 
it  is  true,  in  the  ranchero's  suit,  —  a  soiled  linen  shirt  open 
at  the  throat,  over  which  was  a  short  jacket  of  stained 
yellow  leather,  while  trousers  of  the  same,  opening  upon  the 
outside  of  the  leg  to  the  middle  of  tho  thigh,  over  loose 
drawers  of  white  cotton,  were  bound  at  the  waist  by  a  scarf 
of  silk  which  had  once  been  bright  red ;  his  blanket  covered 
one  shoulder ;  his  brows  were  still  circled  by  the  handker- 
chief, but  he  had  pushed  back  the  slouching  hat,  and  the 
face  which  he  thrust  forward  as  he  looked  eagerly  around 
had  undergone  some  strange  transformation,  Avhich  made 
it  totall}'  unlike  that  of  the  stolid  mixed-breed  villager  who 
had  talked  with  the  major-domo  a  few  hours  before.  Even 
the  features  of  the  face  seemed  changed,  the  heav}'  fleshi- 
ness of  the  ranchero  had  given  place  to  the  refinement 
and  keenness  of  the  cavalier.  The  bushy  brows  were  un- 
bent, there  was  intelligence  and  vivacity  in  his  dark  eyes, 
a  half-mocking,  half-anxious  smile  upon  his  lips,  which  ut- 
terly changed  the  dull  and  ignorant  expression,  and  of  the 
same  flesh  and  blood  made  an  absolutely  new  creation. 

It  was  not  curiosity  that  lighted  the  eyes  as  they  glanced 
lingeringl}'  around,  scanning  the  low  chairs  and  tables  scat- 
tered through  the  corridor,  resting  upon  the  rose-entwined 
colu'v.Rs  that  supported  it,,  and  then  upon  the  fountain  in 


! 


12 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


the  centre  of  the  court,  which  threw  a  slender  column 
in  the  moonlight,  and  fell  like  a  thousand  gems  into  the 
basin  which  overflowed  and  refreshed  a  vast  variety  of 
flowering  shrubs  that  encircled  it.  It  was  rather  a  look 
of  pleased  recognition,  followed  b}'^  a  sarcastic  smile,  as 
if  he  scorned  a  paradise  so  peaceful.  There  was  indeed 
in  every  movement  of  his  well-knit  flgure,  in  the  clutch  of 
his  small  but  sinewy  hand  upon  the  door,  something  that 
indicated  that  the  saddle  and  sword  were  more  fitting  to 
his  robust  physique  and  fiery  nature  than  the  delights  of 
a  lady's  bower. 

Nevertheless,  he  was  about  to  enter,  and  had  indeed 
made  a  hasty  movement  toward  the  staircase  that  led  to 
the  upper  rooms,  when  an  unexpected  sound  arrested  him. 
Planillos  drew  back  into  the  shadow  and  listened  eagerly, 
scarce  crediting  the  evidence  of  his  senses ;  gradually  he 
fell  upon  his  knees,  covering  himself  with  his  dingy  blanket, 
transforming  himself  into  a  dull  clod  of  humanitj^  which 
under  cover  of  the  black  shadows  would  escape  observa- 
tion except  of  the  most  jealous  and  critical  eye.  Yet  this 
apparent  clod  was  for  the  time  all  eyes  and  ears.  Presently 
the  sound  he  had  heard,  a  light  tap  on  the  outer  door, 
was  repeated ;  a  shrill  call  like  that  of  a  wild  bird  — 
doubtless  a  pre-arranged  signal  —  sounded,  and  in  in- 
tense astonishment  he  waited  breathlessly  for  what  should 
further  happen. 

Evidently  the  gate-keeper  was  not  unprepared,  for  the 
first  wild  note  caused  him  to  raise  his  head  sleepily,  and 
at  the  second  he  staggered  from  his  alcove,  muttering  an 
imprecation,  and  fumbling  in  his  girdle  for  the  key  of  the 
postern.  He  glanced  around  warily,  even  going  softly  to 
places  where  the  shadows  fell  most  darkly ;  but  finding  no 
one,  returned,  and  with  deft  fingers  proceeded  to  push 
back  noiselessly  the  bolts  of  the  small  door  set  in  a  panel 
of  the  massive  one  which  closed  the  wide  entrance.  It 
creaked  slowly  upon  its  hinges,  so  lightly  that  even  a  bird 
would  not  have  stirred  in  its  slumbers,  and  a  man  cau- 
tiously entered.  He  had  spurs  upon  his  heels,  and  after 
effecting  his  entrance  stooped  to  remove  them,  and  Pla- 
nillos had  time  and  opportunity  to  sec  that  he  was  not 
one  of  Pedro  Gomez's  associates,  —  not  one  of  the  com- 
mon people. 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


13 


The  midnight  visitor  was  tall  and  slender,  the  latter 
though,  it  would  seem,  from  the  incomplete  development 
of  youth,  rather  than  from  delicacy  of  race.  The  long 
white  hand  that  unbuckled  his  spurs  was  supple  and  large  ; 
his  whole  frame  was  modelled  in  more  generous  proportions 
than  are  usually  seen  in  the  descendants  of  the  Aztecs  or 
their  conquerors. 

"  Ingles, "  thought  Planillos,  using  a  term  which  is 
indiscriminately  applied  to  English  or  Americans.  "  A 
man  I  dare  vow  it  would  be  hard  to  deal  with  in  fair 
fight!" 

But  evidently  the  Englishman,  or  American,  was  not 
there  with  any  idea  of  contest ;  a  pistol  gleamed  in  his 
belt,  but  its  absence  would  have  been  more  noticeable 
than  its  presence,  —  it  was  worn  as  a  matter  of  course. 
For  so  young  a  man,  in  that  country  where  every  cavalier 
native  or  foreign  affected  an  abundance  of  ornament,  his 
dress  was  singularly  plain,  —  black  throughout,  even  to 
the  wide  hat  that  shaded  his  face,  the  j'outhful  bloom  of 
which  was  heightened  rather  than  injured  by  the  superfi- 
cial bronze  imparted  by  a  tropical  sun. 

Planillos  had  time  to  observe  all  this.  Evidently  the 
late-comer  knew  his  ground,  and  had  but  little  fear  of 
discover}'.  "A  bold  fellow,"  thought  the  watcher,  "  and 
fair  indeed  should  be  tlie  Dulcinea  for  whom  he  ventures 
so  much.  It  must  be  the  niece  of  Don  Rafael,  or  perhaps 
the  governess  —  did  I  hear  she  was  young?  " 

But  further  speculation  was  arrested  by  the  movements 
of  the  stranger,  who,  after  a  moment's  parley  with  Pedro, 
came  noiselessly  but  directly  toward  the  door  near  which 
Planillos  was  lying. 

Once  within  it,  he  paused  to  listen.  Planillos  expected 
him  to  make  some  signal,  and  to  see  him  joined  by  a 
veiled  figure  in  the  corridor,  but  to  his  unbounded  amaze- 
ment and  rage  the  intruder  pa?'-  'd  swiftly  by  the  fountain, 
under  the  great  trees  of  bitter-scented  oleanders  and  cloy- 
ing jasmine,  and  sprang  lightly  up  the  steps  leading  to  the 
private  apartments.  His  foot  was  on  the  corridor,  wlicn 
Planillos,  light  as  a  cat,  leaped  up  the  steep  stair.  His 
head  had  just  reached  the  level  of  the  floor  above,  when 
with  an  absolute  fury  of  rage  be  caught  the  glimpse  of  a 
fair  3'oung  face  in  the  moontiglit,  and  beheld  the  American 


14 


CHATA  AND  CHINTTA. 


n 


in  the  embrace  of  a  beautiful  girl.  Instinct,  rather  than 
recognition,  revealed  to  his  initiated  mind  the  young 
heiress,  Herlindu  Garcia.  Absolutely  paralyzed  by  aston- 
ishment and^rage,  for  one  moment  cuui^b,  almost  bli'Mled, 
in  the  next  he  saw  the  closing  of  a  heavy  door  divide  from 
his  sight  the  lovers  whom  he  was  too  late  to  separate. 

Too  late  ?  No !  one  blow  from  his  dagger  ui)on  that 
closed  door,  one  cry  throughout  the  sleeping  house  and 
the  life  of  the  man  who  had  stolen  within  would  not  be 
worth  a  moment's  purchase !  It  required  all  his  strength 
of  will,  a  full  realization  of  his  own  position,  to  prevent 
Planillos  from  shouting  aloud,  from  rushing  to  the  door 
of  Dona  Isabel,  to  beat  upon  it  and  cry,  "  Up !  up  !  look 
to  your  daughter !  See  if  there  be  anv  shame  like  hers  ! 
see  how  your  own  child  tramples  upon  the  honor  of  which 
you  have  so  proudly  boasted  ! " 

But  he  restrained  himself,  panting  like  a  wild  animal 
mad  with  excitement.  The  thought  of  a  more  perfect,  a 
7uore  personal  revenge  leaped  into  his  mind,  and  silenced 
the  cry  that  rose  to  his  lips,  —  held  him  from  rushing 
down  to  plunge  his  dagger  into  the  heart  of  the  false  door- 
keeper, completely  obliterated  even  the  remembrance  of  the 
purpose  for  which  he  had  ventured  into  a  place  deemed 
so  sacred,  so  secure !  and  sustained  him  through  the 
long  hour  of  waiting,  the  horrible  intentness  of  his  pur- 
pose each  moment  growing  more  fixed,  more  definitely 
pitiless. 

For  some  time  he  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  upon  which 
he  had  made  the  discovery  which  had  so  maddened  him, 
but  at  last  he  crouched  in  the  shadow  at  the  foot  of  the 
stniroase  ;  and  scarcely  had  he  done  so,  when  the  man 
for  whom  he  waited  appeared  at  the  top.  He  saw  him 
wave  his  hand,  he  even  caught  his  whispered  words,  so 
acute  were  his  senses  :  "  Never  fear,  my  Herlinda,  all  will 
be  well.  I  will  protect  you,  my  love !  In  another  week 
at  most  all  this  will  be  at  an  end.  I  shall  be  free  to  come 
."nd  go  as  I  will !  " 

"Free  as  air!"  thought  the  man  lying  in  the  shadow, 
with  grim  humor,  even  as  he  grasped  his  dagger.  Crouch- 
ing beneath  his  blanket  he  had  drawn  from  his  brows  the 
red  kerchief.  The  veins  stood  black  and  swollen  upon  his 
temples  as  the  foreigner,  waving  a  last  farewell,  descended 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


15 


the  stairs.  He  passed  with  drooping  head,  breathing  at 
the  moment  a  deep  sigh,  within  a  hand's  breadtli  of  an 
incarnate  fiend. 

All,  devoted  yonth !  had  thy  guardian  angel  veiled  her 
face  that  night V  Oh,  if  but  at  tlic  last  moment  thy  liglit 
foot  would  wake  the  echoes  and  rouse  the  sleepers,  al- 
ready muttering  in  their  dreams,  as  if  conscious  that  the 
dawn  was  near.  But  nothing  happened  ;  the  whole  world 
seemed  wrapped  in  oblivion  as  he  bent  over  the  gate- 
keeper, and  with  some  familiar  touch  aroused  him.  He 
stooped  to  put  on  his  spurs,  as  Pedro  opened  the  post- 
ern, and  instantly  stepped  forth,  while  the  gate-keeper 
proceeded  to  replace  the  fastenings.  But  as  the  man 
turned  nervously,  with  the  sensation  of  an  unexpected 
presence  near  him,  he  was  absolutely  paralyzed  with  dis- 
may. A  livid  face,  in  which  were  set  eyes  of  lurid  black- 
ness, looked  down  upon  him  with  satanic  rage.  The  bulk 
that  towered  over  him  seemed  colossal.  "Mercy!  mer- 
cy !  "  he  ejaculated.     "  By  all  the  saints  I  swear  —  " 

"  Let  me  pass  !  "  hissed  Planillos  in  a  voice  scarce  above 
a  whisper,  but  which  in  its  intensity  sounded  in  the  ears 
of  Pedro  like  thunder.  "Villain,  let  me  pass!"  and  he 
cast  from  him  the  terrified  gate-keeper  as  though  he  were 
a  child,  and  rushed  out  upon  the  sandy  slope  which  lay 
between  the  great  house  and  the  village.  He  was  not  a 
moment  too  soon.  In  the  dim  light  he  caught  sight 
of  the  lithe  figure  of  the  foreigner,  as  he  passed  rapidl}' 
over  the  rough  ground  skirting  the  village,  the  better 
to  escape  the  notice  of  the  dogs,  which,  tired  with  baying 
the  moon,  had  at  last  sunk  to  uneasy  slumbers. 

Planillos  looked  toward  the  moon,  and  cursed  its  rapid 
waning.  The  light  grew  so  faint  he  could  scarce  keep 
the  3'oung  man  in  sight,  as  he  approacbed  a  tree  where  a 
dark  horse  was  tied,  which  neighed  as  he  drew  near. 
Planillos  clutched  his  dagger  closer ;  would  the  pursued 
spring  into  hie  saddle,  and  thus  escape,  at  least  for  that 
night?  On  the  contrary,  he  lingered,  leaning  against  his 
horse,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  white  walls  of  the  house  he 
had  left.  All  unconscious  of  danger,  he  stood  in  the  full 
strength  of  manhood,  with  the  serene  influences  of 
Nature  around  him,  his  mind  so  rapt  and  tranced  that 
even  had  his  pursuer  taken  no  precaution  in  making  his 


16 


CHATA   AND   rHINITA. 


m 

1 


i 


approach  from  shrub  to  shrub,  concealing  his  person  as 
much  as  possible,  he  would  probably  have  reached  his  vic- 
tim unnoticed.  Within  call  slept  scores  of  fellow-men  ;  be- 
hind him,  scarce  half  a  mile  away,  rose  the  walls  and  chim- 
neys of  his  whilom  home  ;  not  ten  minutes  before  he  had 
said,  "  I  shall  be  as  safe  on  the  road  as  in  your  arms,  my 
love  ! "  He  was  absolutely  unconscious  of  his  surround- 
ings, lost  in  a  blissful  reverie,  when  with  irresistible  force 
he  was  hurled  to  the  ground ;  a  frightful  blow  fell  upon 
his  side,  —  the  heavens  grew  dark  above  him.  Conscious, 
yet  dumb,  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  only  to  be  again  pre- 
cipitatcfd  to  the  earth  ;  the  dagger  that  at  the  moment  of 
attack  had  been  thrust  into  his  bosom,  was  buried  to  the 
hilt ;  the  blood  gushed  forth,  and  with  a  deep  groan  he 
expired. 

All  was  over  in  a  few  moments  of  time.  John  Ashley's 
soul,  with  all  its  sins,  had  been  ^  :rled  into  the  presence  of 
its  Judge.  The  self-appointed  aveiiger  staggered,  gasping, 
against  the  tree ;  an  almost  superhuman  effort  had  brought 
a  terrible  exhaustion.  Ever}-  muscle  and  nerve  quivered ; 
he  could  scarcely  '--caud.  Yet  thrusting  from  him  with  his 
foot  the  dead  t3ody,  he  thirsted  still  for  blood.  ''  If  I 
could  but  return  and  kill  that  villain  Pedro,"  he  Jiissed ; 
"  if  his  accur^od  soul  could  but  follow  to  purgatory  this 
one  I  have  already  sent  I  But,  bah !  a  later  day  will  answer 
for  the  dog !  Ah,  I  am  so  spent  a  child  might  hold  me ; 
but,"  looking  toward  the  mountains,  "this  horse  is  fresh 
and  fleet.  I  shall  be  safe  enough  when  the  first  beam  of 
the  morning  sun  touches  ,your  lover's  lips,  Herlinda." 

The  assassin  glanced  from  his  viodm  toward  the  house 
he  had  left,  with  a  muttered  imprecation ;  then,  trembling 
still  from  his  tremendous  exertions,  he  approached  the 
~teed,  which,  unable  to  break  the  lariat  by  which  it  had 
been  fastened,  was  straining  and  plunging,  half-maddened, 
after  the  confusion  of  the  struggle,  by  the  smell  of  blood 
already  rising  on  the  air. 

Planillos  possessed  that  wonderfully  magnetic  power 
over  the  brute  creation  which  is  as  potent  as  it  is  rare, 
and  which  on  this  occasion  within  a  few  moments  com- 
pletely' dominated  and  calmed  the  fright  and  fury  of  the 
powerful  animal,  which  he  presently  mounted,  and  which 
—  though  man  and  horse  shook  with  the  violence  of  ex- 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


17 


9  person  as 
ched  his  vic- 
ow-men ;  be- 
lls and  chim- 
efore  he  had 
)ur  arms,  my 
lis  surround- 
(sistible  force 

ow  fell  upon 
Conscious, 
be  again  pre- 
iie  moment  of 
buried  to  the 
eep  groan  he 

John  Ashley's 
lie  presence  of 
ered,  gasping, 
•t  had  brought 
jrvb  quivered ; 
a  him  with  his 
blood.    ''If  I 
^o,"  he  Iiissed ; 
purgatory  this 
lay  will  answer 
ight  hold  me; 
3  horse  is  fresh 
le  first  beam  of 
lerlinda." 
Bvard  the  house 
then,  trembling 
approached  the 
►y  which  it  had 
half-maddened, 
J  smell  of  blood 

nagnetic  power 
nt  as  it  is  rare, 
'  moments  com- 
and  fury  of  the 
mted,  and  which 
e  violence  of  ex- 


citement and  conflict  —  he  managed  with  the  case  that 
denoted  constant  practice  and  superb  horsemanship.  With 
a  last  glance  at  the  murdered  man,  whom  the  darkness 
that  precedes  the  dawn  scarce  allowed  him  to  distinguish 
from  the  slirubs  around,  he  put  spurs  to  the  restive  steed, 
and  galloped  rapidly  away. 


III. 


It  is  not  to  1)0  supposed  that  this  bloody  deed  oc- 
curred entirely  unsuspected.  Tedro,  the  gate-keeper,  lay 
hall-stunned  upon  the  stones  where  he  had  been  east  by 
the  man  who  called  himself  I'lanillos,  and  listened  with 
strained  ears  to  every  sound.  No  indication  of  a  struggle 
reached  him,  but  his  horrified  imagination  formed  innu- 
merable pictures  of  treacherous  violence,  in  which  one  or 
the  other  of  the  men  who  had  left  him  figured  as  the  vic- 
tim, lie  dared  give  no  alarm ;  indeed,  at  first  ho  was  so 
unnerved  by  terror  that  he  could  neither  stir  nor  spealc. 
At  length,  after  what  appeared  to  him  hours  but  was  in 
reality  only  a  few  minutes,  he  heard  the  shrill  neigh  of  the 
horse  and  the  souad  of  rearing  and  plunging,  followed  by 
the  dull  thud  of  retreating  footsteps  and  shrill  whistles  in 
challenge  and  answer  from  the  watchmen  upon  the  haci- 
enda roof,  who,  however,  took  no  further  steps  toward  in- 
vestigating what  they  supposed  to  be  a  drunken  brawl 
which  had  taken  place,  almost  out  of  hearing  and  quite 
out  of  sight,  and  which  therefore,  as  the}-  conceived, 
could  in  no  wise  endanger  the  safety  or  peace  of  the 
hacienda. 

Their  signals,  however,  served  to  arouse  Pedro,  wlio 
shaking  in  every  limb,  his  brain  reeling,  his  heart  bursting 
with  apprehension,  crawled  to  the  postern,  and  after  many 
abortive  efforts  managed  to  secure  the  bolts.  He  then 
staggered  to  the  alcove  in  which  he  slept,  and  searching 
beneath  the  sheepskin  mat  which  served  for  his  bed,  found 
a  small  flask  of  aguardiente^  and  taking  a  deep  draught 
of  the  fiery  liquor,  little  by  little  recovered  his  outwivd 
composure. 

For  that  night,  however,  sleep  no  more  visited  his  eyes ; 
and  he  spent  the  hour  before  dawn  in  making  to  himself 
wild  excuses  for  his  treason,  in  wilder  projects  for  flight, 
and  in  mentally  recapitulating  his  sins  and  preparing 


CIIATA  AND   CinmTA. 


10 


liimsclf  for  death ;  so  it  can  readily  bo  imnj»incd  that  it 
was  a  haggard  and  distraught  couiiteuauci!  tliat  lie  thrust 
forth  IVoui  the  postern  at  dawn,  when  with  the  first  streak 
of  light  came  a  crowd  of  excited  villagers  to  the  gate,  to 
heat  upon  it  wildly,  and  with  hoarse  groans  and  cries  to 
announce  that  Don  Juan  had  been  found  murdered  under 
a  mesquitc  tree. 

"  Impossible  !  Yo  arc  mad  !  Ansclmo,  thou  art  drunk, 
raving  I  "  stammered  forth  the  gate-keeper.  "  Don  Juan  is 
is  at  the  reduction- works  1" 

"  Tliou  liest!"  cried  an  excited  villager;  "he  is  in 
purgatory.  Cod  help  him  I  Holy  angels  and  all  saints 
pray  for  him  !  " 

"  Ave  Maria  I  IMothcr  of  Sorrows,  by  the  five  won; ids 
of  thy  Son,  intercede  for  him  !  "  cried  a  chorus  of  wouum, 
wringing  their  hands  and  gesticulating  distractedly. 

"Open  the  gate,  Tedro!"  demanded  the  throng  with- 
out, by  this  time  almost  equalled  by  that  within,  througli 
which  the  administrador,  Don  Rafael  Sanchez,  was  seen 
forcing  his  wa^',  holding  high  the  great  keys  of  the  main 
door.  He  was  a  small  man,  with  a  pale  but  determined 
face,  before  whom  .he  crowd  fell  back,  ceasing  for  a  mo- 
ment their  incohere  it  lamentations,  while  ho  assisted  Pedro 
to  unlock  and  throw  open  the  doors. 

"Good  heavens,  man,  are  you  mad?"  he  exclaimed,  as 
Pedro  darted  from  his  side  and  rushed  toward  the  group 
of  rancheros,  who,  bearing  between  them  a  recumbent 
form,  were  slowly  approaching  the  hacienda.  "Ah!  ali, 
that  is  right,"  as  he  saw  that  Pedro,  with  imperative  ges- 
tures and  a  few  expressive  words,  had  induced  the  bearers 
to  turn  and  proceed  with  the  body  toward  the  reduction- 
vorks;  "better  there  than  here.  What  could  have  in- 
duced him  to  roam  about  at  night?  I  have  told  him  a 
score  of  times  his  foolhardincss  would  be  the  death  of 
iiim ; "  and  with  these  and  similar  ejaculations  Don  Rafael 
hastened  to  join  the  throng  which  were  soon  pouring  into 
the  gates  of  the  reduction-works. 

Meanwhile  from  within  the  great  house  came  the  cries 
of  women,  above  which  rose  one  piercing  shriek  ;  but  few 
were  there  to  hear  it,  for  in  wild  excitement  men,  women, 
and  children  followed  the  corpse  across  the  valley  and 
thronged  the  gates  of  the  works  which  were  closed  in  their 


20 


CIIATA  AND  C/I/A7TA. 


'      I 


faces,  or  siirroundc'd  with  papiii*?  looks,  wild  pcsticiila- 
lions,  nntl  inoiuungloss  inquiiics,  tlio  tree  bcncatli  which 
the  nuirtlcrcd  man  had  been  found,  thus  completely  oblit- 
erating the  signs  of  the  struggle  and  (light  of  tlie  murderer 
even  while  most  eagerly  seeking  them. 

John  Ashley  had  been  an  alien  and  a  heretic.  No  longer 
ago  than  yesterday  there  had  been  many  a  lip  to  murnuir 
at  his  foreign  ways.  In  all  the  history  of  the  mining 
works  never  had  there  been  known  a  master  so  exacting 
with  the  laborer,  so  rigorous  with  the  dishonest,  so  harsh 
with  the  careless ;  yet  he  had  been  withal  as  generous  and 
just  as  he  was  severe.  The  [)eople  liad  been  ready  to  nnir- 
mur,  yet  in  their  secret  hearts  they  had  respected  and 
even  loved  the  young  Americano,  who  knew  how  to  govern 
them,  and  to  gain  from  them  a  fair  amount  of  work  for  a 
fair  and  promptly  paid  wage;  and  who,  from  a  half  ruin- 
ous, ill-managed  source  of  vexation  and  loss,  was  surely 
but  slowly  evolving  order  and  the  promise  of  prosperity. 

The  bearers  and  the  crowd  of  laborers  belonging  to  the 
reduction-works  were  admitted  with  their  burden,  and  as 
they  passed  into  the  large  and  scantily-furnished  room 
which  John  Ashley  had  called  his  own,  they  reverently 
pulled  off  their  wide,  ragged  straw  hats,  and  many  a  lip 
moved  in  prayer  as  the  people,  for  a  moment  awed  into 
silence,  crowded  around  to  view  the  corpse,  which  had 
been  laid  upon  a  low  narrow  bed  with  the  strii)ed  blanket 
of  a  laborer  thrown  over  it.  As  the  coarse  covering  was 
thrown  back,  a  woful  sight  was  seen.  The  form  of  a  man 
scarce  past  boyhood,  drenched  from  breast  to  feet  in  blood, 
yet  still  beautiful  in  its  perfect  symmetry.  The  tall  lithe 
figure,  the  straight  features,  the  downy  beard  shading 
cheeks  and  lips  of  adolescent  softness,  the  long  lashes  of 
the  eyelids  now  closed  forever,  and  the  fair  curls  resting 
upon  the  marble  brow,  all  showed  how  comely  he  had 
been.  The  women  burst  into  fresh  lamentations,  the  men 
muttered  threats  of  vengeance.  But  who  was  the  mur- 
derer?   A}-,  there  was  the  mystery. 

"lie  has  a  mother  far  off  across  the  sea,"  said  a 
woman,  brokenly. 

"  Ay,  and  sisters,"  added  another ;  "  he  bade  us  remem- 
ber them  when  we  drank  to  his  health  on  his  saint's  day. 
'  In  my  country  wo  keep  birthdays,'  he  said  (I  suppose, 


ClfATA  AND  CiriNITA. 


21 


ihc  sea,"  said  a 


poor  pcntlcman,  he  meant  the  saints  luul  never  leunud  liis 
biirhuroiis  ton<j;iie)  ;  unci  then  he  Uiny;heil.  •  JUit  naint's  (hiy 
or  birthday,  it  is  all  the  same  ;  1  'ni  twenty-three  to-day.' " 

*'  Yes,  't  was  twenty-three  he  said,"  conllrnied  anotlusr ; 
*'  and  do  you  remember  how  he  reddened  and  laughed 
when  I  told  him  he  was  old  enough  to  think  of  wedding?  " 

*'  IJut  vexed  enough,"  added  anotlier,  "  when  I  repeated 
our  old  proverb,  *  Who  goes  far  to  marry,  goes  to  deeeivo 
or  be  deeeived.'  I  meant  no  ill,  but  he  turned  on  me  like 
a  hornet.  But,  poor  young  fellow,  all  his  quick  tempers 
are  over  now  ;  he  '11  be  (piiet  enough  till  the  Judgment  day 
—  eursed  be  the  hand  that  struck  him  !  " 

"Come,  come!  "  suddenly  broke  in  Don  Rafael,  "  no 
more  of  this  chatter;  clear  the  room  for  the  Senor 
Alcalde,"  and  with  much  important  bustle  and  portentous 
gravity  the  oflleial  in  question  entered.  lie  had  in  I'act 
been  one  of  the  first  to  Inisten  to  the  scene  of  the  murder, 
for  the  time  forgetting  the  dignity  of  his  position,  of  which 
in  his  ragged  frazada^  his  battered  straw  hat,  and  un- 
kempt locks,  there  was  little  to  remind  cither  himself  or 
his  fellow  villagers.  However,  on  the  alcalde  being  called 
for,  he  immediately  dropped  his  role  of  idle  gazer,  and 
])roeeeded  with  the  most  stately  formality  to  the  reduction- 
works.  After  viewing  the  dead  body,  he  made  most 
copious  notes  of  the  supposed  manner  of  assassination, 
which  were  chielly  remarkable  in  dillering  entirely  from  the 
reality ;  and  he  gave  profuse  orders  for  the  following  of 
the  murderer  or  nunderers,  delivering  at  the  same  time  to 
Don  llafaul  Sanchez  the  elfects  of  the  deceased,  for  safe 
keeping  and  ultimate  transmission  to  the  relatives,  mean- 
while delivering  himself  of  many  sapient  remarks,  to  the 
great  edification  of  his  hearers. 

It  ai)peared  upon  examination  of  various  persons  con- 
nected with  the  reduction-works  that  the  young  American 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  riding  forth  at  night,  sometimes 
attended  by  a  servant,  but  often  alone,  spending  hours  oi' 
the  beautiful  moonlight  in  exploring  the  deep  canons  of 
the  mountains,  having,  seemingly,  a  peculiar  love  for 
their  wild  solitudes  and  an  utter  disregard  of  danger. 
More  than  once  when  he  had  ventured  forth  alone,  the 
gate-keeper  or  clerk  had  remonstrated,  but  he  had  laughed 
at  their  fears ;  and  in  fact  it  was  the  mere  habit  of  cau- 


22 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


if 


tion  that  had  suggested  them,  the  whole  country  l)cnig  at 
that  time  remarkably  free  from  marauders,  and  the  idea 
that  John  Ashley  —  almost  a  stranger,  so  courteous,  so 
well  liked  by  inferiors,  as  well  as  by  those  who  called  them- 
selves his  equals  or  superiors  —  should  have  a  personal 
enemy  had  never  entered  the  mind  of  even  the  most  sus- 
picious. But  for  once  tlie  cowards  were  justified ;  the 
brave  man  had  fallen,  the  days  of  his  youi^g  and  daring 
life  were  ended. 

The  alcalde  and  Don  Rafael  were  eloquent  in  grave 
encomiums  of  his  worth  and  regret  for  his  folly,  as  tliey 
at  last  left  the  reduction-works  together.  They  had 
agreed  that  a  letter  must  be  written  to  the  American  con- 
sul in  the  city  of  Mexico,  with  full  particulars,  and  that  he 
should  be  asked  to  communicate  the  sad  event  to  the  family 
of  the  deceased  ;  but  as  several  days,  or  even  weeks,  must 
necessarily  elapse  before  he  could  be  heard  from,  it  was 
decided  that  the  murdered  man  should  be  buried  upon  the 
following  da}'.  To  wait  longer  was  both  useless  and  un- 
usual. And  so,  these  matters  being  satisfactorily'  arranged, 
the  alcalde  and  administrador,  both  perhaps  ready  for 
breakfast,  parted. 

The  latter  at  the  gate  of  the  hacienda  met  the  major- 
domo,  who  whispered  to  him  mysteriously,  and  finally  led 
liim  to  the  cointyard,  where  the  forsaken  mule  was  munch- 
ing his  fodder.  A  pair  of  sandals  laj'  there.  Pedro,  had 
he  wished,  could  have  shown  a  striped  blanket  and  hat 
that  he  had  picked  up  near  the  gateway  and  concealed ; 
but  the  mule  and  sandals  were  patent  to  all. 

"Well,  what  then?"  cried  Don  Rafael,  impatiently, 
when  he  had  minutelj'  inspected  them,  turning  the  sandals 
with  his  foot  as  he  stared  at  the  animal. 

''Oh,  nothing,"  answered  the  major-domo;  "I  am 
perhaps  a  fool,  but  the  ranchero  is  gone." 

Don  Rafael  started — fell  into  a  deep  studj'  —  turned 
away  —  came  back,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  major- 
domo's  arm.  This  was  the  first  suggestion  that  had 
been  advanced  of  the  possibility  of  the  murderer  having 
sought  his  victim  from  within  the  walls  of  the  great  house. 
"  Silenciol"  he  said;  "what  matters  it  to  us  how  the 
man  died?  There  is  more  in  this  than  behooves  you  or 
me  to  meddle  with." 


CI/ATA  AND  CIIINITA 


23 


ntry  being  at 
and  the  idea 
courteous,  so 
)  callea  tbcni- 
e  a  personal 
tlie  most  sus- 
justified;  the 
^g  and  daring 

lent  in  grave 
folly,  as  they 
.      They   had 
American  con- 
's, and  that  he 
it  to  the  family 
n  weeks,  must 
I  from,  it  was 
uried  upon  the 
isclcss  and  un- 
;orily  arranged, 
.tips  ready  lor 

met  the  major- 
and  finally  led 
ule  was  munch- 
•e.  Pedro,  had 
ilanket  and  hat 
and  concealed ; 

,el,  impatiently, 
tiing  the  sandals 

domo;   "I  am 

2." 

f'study  — turned 
ipon  the  major- 
;estion  that  had 
murderer  having 
^  the  great  house. 
X  to  us  how  the 
behooves  you  or 


The  two  men  looked  at  each  otlier.  "  Wh}'  disturb  the 
Seilora  Doiia  Isabel  with  such  matters?  Tlie  American  is 
dead.  The  ranchero  can  be  nothing  to  her,"  said  Don 
Rafael,  sententiousl3\  "  He  who  gives  testimony  unasked 
brings  suspicion  upon  himself.  No,  no  !  leave  the  matter 
to  his  countrymen  ;  they  have  a  consul  here  who  has  noth- 
ing to  do  but  inquire  into  such  matters." 

"  True,  true !  and  one  might  as  well  hope  to  find  again 
the  wildbird  escaped  from  its  cage,  as  to  see  that  Juan 
rianillos !  God  save  us  !  if  he  was  indeed  the  true  Juan 
rianillos !  "  and  tlie  mystified  major-domo  actually  turned 
pale  at  the  thought.  "  They  say  he  is  more  devil  than  man  ; 
that  would  explain  how  he  got  out  of  the  hacienda,  for  Pedro 
Gomez  swears  he  let  no  man  pass,  eitiier  out  or  in." 

Don  Rafael  had  his  own  private  opinion  about  that,  and 
of  whom  the  disguised  visitor  might  be.  Yet  why  should 
he  have  attacked  the  American?  Had  Asliley  too  been 
within  the  walls,  —  and  for  what  purpose  ?  These  ques- 
tions were  full  of  deep  and  startling  import,  and  again  im- 
pressing upon  his  subordinate  that  endless  trouble  might  be 
avoided  by  a  discreet  silence,  he  walked  thoughtfully  away, 
those  vague  suspicions  and  conjectures  taking  definite  shape 
in  his  mind.  He  went  to  the  gate  with  some  design  of 
warily  questioning  Pedro,  but  the  man  was  not  there  ;  for 
once,  friend  or  foe  might  go  in  or  out  unnoticed.  But  it  was 
a  day  of  disorder,  and  Don  Rafael  could  readily  divine  the 
excuse  for  the  gate-keeper's  neglect  of  duty.  Remember- 
ing that  he  had  not  broken  his  fast  that  day,  he  went  to 
his  own  rooms  for  the  morning  chocolate  ;  and  from  thence 
he  presentl}'  saw  Pedro  emerge  from  the  opposite  court, 
and  with  bowed  head  and  reluctant  steps  repair  to  his 
wonted  post.  Don  Raftiel  Sanchez  knew  his  countrymen, 
especiall}'  those  of  the  lower  class,  too  well  to  hasten  to 
hi;n  and  ply  him  with  inquiries  as  he  longed  to  do.  He 
knew  too  well  the  value  of  patience,  anfl  more  than  once 
had  found  it  golden.  Rita,  his  j'oung  wife,  had  come  to 
him,  and  through  her  tears  and  ejaculations  was  relating 
the  account  of  the  murder  the  servants  had  brought  to  her, 
which  was  as  wild  and  improbable  as  the  reality  had  been, 
though  not  more  pliastly,  when  a  servant  entered  with  a 
hasty  message  from  Dona  Isabel 


IV. 


i':'i 


While  the  discovery  of  the  murder  had  caused  this  "wild 
excitement  outside  the  walls  of  the  hacienda,  a  far  different 
scene  was  being  enacted  within.  Mademoiselle  La  Croix, 
the  governess  of  the  two  sisters  Herlinda  and  Carmen 
Garcia,  had  arisen  early,  leaving  her  j-oungest  charge 
asleep,  and,  hurriedly  donning  her  dressing-gown,  hast- 
ened to  the  adjoining  apartment,  where  Herlinda  was  en- 
joying that  deep  sleep  which  comes  to  young  and  healthy 
natures  with  the  dawn,  rounding  and  completing  the  hours 
of  perfect  rest,  which  youthful  activity  both  of  body  and 
mind  so  imperatively  demands. 

A  beautiful  girl,  between  fifteen  and  sixteen,  in  her  per- 
fect development  of  figure,  as  well  as  in  the  pure  olive 
tints  of  her  complexion,  revealing  her  Castilian  descent, — 
Herlinda  Garcia  lay  upon  the  white  pillows  shaded  by  a 
canopy  of  lace,  one  arm  thrown  above  her  head,  the  other, 
bare  to  the  elbow,  thrown  across  a  bosom  that  rose  and 
fell  with  each  breath  she  drew,  with  the  regularity  of  per- 
fect content.  Yet  she  opened  her  eyes  witli  a  start,  and 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  as  Mademoiselle  La 
Croix  lightly  touched  her,  saying  half  petulantly,  as  she 
turned  away,  "Oh,  Mademoiselle,  wh}'  have  you  wakened 
me?  I  was  so  happy  just  then!  I  was  dreaming  of 
Jolm !  " 

She  spoke  the  English  name  with  an  indescribable 
accent  of  tenderness,  but  Mademoiselle  La  Croix  repeated 
it  after  her  almost  sharply. 

"  John !  yes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  no  wonder  he  is  always 
in  j-our  thoughts;  as  for  me,  Heaven  knows  what  will 
happen  to  me!  I  am  sure,  liad  I  known  — "  and  the 
Fronrh woman  paused,  to  wipe  a  tear  from  her  eye. 

"  Ah,  yes,  it  was  thoughtless,  cru(>l  of  us  !  "  interrupted 
Herlinda,  penitently,  yet  scarcely  able  to  repress  a  smile 
as  her  glance  full  upon  the  gayly  tlowercd  dressing-gown 


I 


stri 


pall 
loof 
self 


coH 
knc 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


9r, 


Lused  this  wild 

a  far  different 

lolle  La  Croix, 

L  and  Carmen 


ungcst  charge 
g-gown,  hast- 
rUnda  was 
ng 


en- 

_^  and  healthy 

eting  the  hours 

of  body  and 

een,  in  her  per- 
the  pure  olive 
ilian  descent, — 
;vs  shaded  by  a 
head,  the  other, 
1  that  rose  and 
jgularity  of  per- 
rith  a  start,  and 
[adcmoisclle  La 
stulantly,  as  she 
ve  you  wakened 
as  dreaming  of 

xn   indescribable 
a  Croix  repeated 

ider  he  is  always 
knows  what  will 
3wn  — "  and  the 
n  her  eye. 
us ! "  interrupted 
D  repress  a  smile 
cd  dressing-gowr. 


which  formed  an  incongruous  wrapping  for  the  thin,  bony 
fi<''urc  of  the  governess ;  "  but,  dear  Mademoiselle,  nothing 
worse  than  a  dismissal  can  happen  to  you,  and  you  know 
John  has  promised  —  " 

The  governess  drew  herself  up  with  portentous  dignit\'. 
"  Mademoiselle  wanders  from  the  point,"  she  interrupted  ; 
"it  is  of  herself  only  I  was  thinking.  This  state  of 
affairs  must  be  brought  to  a  close,"  she  added  solemnly, 
after  a  pause.  "  At  all  risks,  Herlinda,  John  must  claim 
you." 

"  So  he  knows,  so  I  tell  him,"  answered  Herlinda,  sud- 
denly wide  awake,  and  ceasing  the  prettj^  yawns  and 
stretchings  with  which  she  had  endeavored  to  banish  her 
drowsiness.  "Oh,  Mademoiselle,"  a  shade  of  apprehen- 
sion passing  over  her  face,  "  I  have  done  wrong,  very 
wrong.     My  mother  will  never  forgive  me  !  " 

"  Absurd  !  "  ejaculated  the  governess.  "  Dona  Isa- 
bel, like  every  one  else  in  the  world,  must  submit  to  the 
inevitable." 

"So  John  said;  but,  Mademoiselle,  neither  .you  nor 
John  know  my  mother,  nor  my  people.  She  will  never 
forgive :  in  her  place,  I  would  never  forgive  !  " 

"  And  yet  you  dared !  "  cried  Mademoiselle  La  Croix, 
looking  at  the  young  girl  with  new  admiration  at  the  cour- 
age whicli  stimulated  her  own.  "Truly,  j'ou  Mexicans 
are  a  strange  people,  so  generous  in  many  things,  so  blind 
and  obstinate  in  others.  Well,  well!  you  shall  find, 
Herlinda,  I  too  can  be  brave.  If  I  were  a  coward,  I  should 
say,  wait  until  I  am  sr  ely  away ;  but  I  am  no  coward," 
added  the  little  woman,  drawing  her  figure  to  its  full 
height  and  expanding  her  nostrils,  —  "I  am  ready  to  face 
the  storm  with  you." 

"  Y'es,  yes!"  said  the  young  girl,  hurriedly  and  ab- 
stractedly. "  What,"  she  added,  rising  in  her  bed,  and 
grasping  the  bronze  pillar  at  the  head,  "  what  is  that  I 
hear?  What  a  confusion  of  voices  !"  She  turned  deadly 
pale,  and  her  white-robed  figure  shook  beneath  the  long 
loose  tresses  of  her  coal-black  hair.  ''  My  God  !  Mademoi- 
selle, I  hear  his  name  !  " 

The  governess  too  grew  pale,  though  she  began  in- 
coherently to  reassure  the  young  huly,  who  remained 
kneeling  in  the  bed  as  if  iietrilied,  he*'  hands  clasped  to 


■  I  ■   ■■  ,.     I        my 


2G 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


i 


her  breast,  her  eyes  strained,  listening  intently,  as  through 
tlie  thick  walls  came  the  dull  murmur  of  many  voices.  Like 
waves  they  seemed  to  surge  and  beat  against  the  solid 
stones,  and  the  vague  roar  formed  itself  into  the  words, 
"  Don  Juan  !  Ashley  !  " 

Although  a  moment's  reflection  would  have  reminded 
her  that  a  hundred  other  events,  rather  than  that  of  his 
death,  might  have  brought  the  people  there  to  call  upon 
the  name  of  their  master,  one  of  those  flashes  of  intuition 
which  api)ear  magnetic  revealed  to  Herlinda  the  awful 
truth,  even  before  it  was  borne  to  her  outward  ear  by  the 
shrill  voice  of  a  woman,  crying  through  the  corridor, 
"  God  of  my  life  !  Don  Juan  is  killed !  murdered !  mur- 
dered !  "  She  even  stopped  to  knock  upon  the  door  and 
reiterate  the  words,  in  the  half-horrifled,  half-pleasur- 
able excitement  the  vulgar  often  feel  in  communicating 
dreadful  and  unexpected  news ;  but  a  wild  shriek  from 
within  suddenly  checked  her  outcry,  and  chilled  her 
blood. 

'"Fool  that  I  am!  I  should  have  remembered,"  she 
muttered.  "  Paqua  told  me  there  was  certainly  love 
between  those  two ;  she  saw  the  glance  he  threw  on  the 
3'oung  Heiiorita  in  church  one  day.  But  that  was  months 
ago,  and  she  certainly  is  to  marry  Don  Vicente." 

At  that  moment  a  middle-aged,  plainly-dressed  woman, 
witii  the  blue  and  white  reboso  so  commonly  worn  thrown 
over  her  head,  entered  the  corridor.  Iler  figure  was  so 
commanding,  the  glance  of  her  eyes  so  impressive,  that 
even  in  her  haste  she  lost  none  of  her  habitual  dignity. 
The  woman  turned  away,  glad  to  escape  with  the  reproof, 
' '  Cease  ,your  clamor,  Refugio !  What !  is  j'our  news  so 
pressing  that  you  must  needs  frighten  3'our  j'oung  mistress 
with  it  ?  Go,  go !  Dona  Isabel  will  be  little  likely  to  be 
pleased  with  your  zeal." 

The  woman  hastened  away,  and  Doiia  Feliz,  waiting 
until  she  had  disappeared,  laid  her  hand  upon  the  door  of 
llerlinda's  chamber,  which  like  those  of  man}^  sleeping 
apartments  in  the  house  opened  dircctl}'  upon  the  upper 
corridor,  its  massive  thickness  and  strength  lioing  looked 
upon  as  more  than  sufflcient  to  repel  any  danger  whieli 
could  in  tlie  wildest  probability  reach  it  from  the  well 
guarded  interior  of  the  fort-like  building. 


CIIATA   AND   CIIINITA, 


27 


u  as  through 

oices.    l^ilvo 

st  the  solkl 

the  words, 

^'G  reiuimlcd 
,  that  of  his 
to  call  upon 
J  of  intuition 
la  the  awful 
d  ear  by  the 
the   corridor, 
■dercd!  mur- 
,ho  door  and 
half-pleasur- 
^mmunicating 
shriek  from 
chilled   her 


Ll 

■mbered,"  she 
certainly  love 
!  threw  on  tlie 
at  was  months 
snte." 

L-csscd  woman, 
y  worn  thrown 
'  figure  was  so 
nprcssive,  that 
ibitual  dignity, 
ith  the  rei)roof, 
J  your  news  so 
young  mistress 
ttle  likely  to  be 

t  Fcliz,  waiting 
upon  the  door  of 
'  many  sleeping 
upon  the  upper 
;th  being  looked 
ly  danger  which 
it  from  the  well 


As  Dona  Fcliz  touched  the  latch,  the  door  was  oi)encd 
by  the  affrighted  governess,  who  had  anticipated  the  en- 
trance of  Dona  Isabel.  The  respite  unnerved  her,  and  she 
threw  herself  half  fainting  in  a  chair,  as  Herlinda  seized 
the  new-comer  by  the  shoulders,  gasping  forth,  "  F'eliz, 
Feliz,  tell  me !  tell  me  it  is  not  true  !  He  is  not  dead  ! 
dead !  dead ! "  her  voice  rising  to  a  shriek. 

"Ilush!  hush,  Herlinda!  O  God,  my  child,  what  can 
this  be  to  thee?"  Dona  Feliz  shuddered  as  slie  spoke. 
She  glanced  at  the  closed  window ;  the  walls  she  knew 
to  be  a  yard  in  thickness,  yet  she  wished  them  double,  lest 
a  sound  of  these  wild  ravings  should  escape. 

''Feliz,  you  dare  not  tell  me! — then  it  is  true  !  he  is 
murdered  !  lost,  lost  to  me  forever ! "  Tlie  young  girl  slipped 
like  water  through  the  arms  that  would  '.  .ve  clasped  her, 
crouching  upon  the  floor,  wringing  her  liands,  tearless, 
voiceless,  after  her  last  despairing  words.  Feliz  attempted 
to  raise  her,  but  in  vain. 

Carmen,  aroused  by  the  sounds  of  distress,  appeared  in 
the  doorway  which  connected  the  two  rooms.  "Back! 
go  back !  "  cried  Doiia  Feliz,  and  the  child  frightened  and 
whimpering,  withdrew.  Feliz  turned  to  the  governess,  — 
the  deep  dejection  of  her  attitude  struck  her ;  and  at  that 
moment  Doiia  Isabel  appeared. 

'  Herlinda,"  she  began,  "  this  is  sad  news  ;  but  remem- 
ber— "  she  paused,  looked  with  stern  disapprobation, 
then  iier  superb  self-possession  giving  way,  she  rushed  to 
her  daughter  and  clasped  her  arm.  "Rise!  rise !"  she 
cried ;  ''  this  excess  of  emotion  shames  vou  and  me.  This 
is  folly.  Rise,  I  say  !  He  could  never  have  been  anything, 
child,  to  thee  !  " 

Herlinda  did  not  move,  she  did  not  even  look  up. 
She  had  alwa3's  feared  her  mother ;  had  trembled  at 
her  slightest  word  of  blame ;  had  been  like  wax  under 
her  hand.  Yet  now  she  was  as  marble  ;  her  hands  had 
dropped  on  her  lap ;  she  was  rigid  to  the  touch ;  only 
the  deep  moans  that  burst  from  her  white  lips  proved 
that  she  lived. 

The  attitude  was  expressive  of  such  utter  despair  that 
it  was  of  itself  a  revelation  ;  and  presently  the  moans 
formed  themselves  into  words:  "My  God!  my  God!  I 
am  undone  !  he  is  dead  !  he  is  dead  !  " 


28 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


The  words  bore  a  terrible  significance  to  the  listeners. 
Doiia  Isabel  turned  her  eyes  upon  Feliz,  and  read  upon 
her  lace  the  thought  that  had  forced  its  way  to  lier  own 
mind.  Her  face  paled ;  she  dropped  her  daughter's  arm 
and  drew  back.  The  act  itself  was  an  accusation.  Per- 
haps the  girl  felt  it  so.  She  suddenly  wrung  her  hands 
distractedly,  and  sprang  to  her  feet,  exclaiming,  "  My  hus- 
band !  my  husband !  Let  me  go  to  him !  he  cannot  be 
dead  !  he  is  not  dead  !  " 

Tiie  words  "  M}'  husband  "  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  among 
them.  Herlinda  had  rushed  to  the  door,  but  13ona  Feliz 
caught  her  in  her  strong  arms,  and  forced  her  back.  "Tell 
us  what  you  mean  !  "  she  ejaculated  ;  while  the  frightened 
governess  plucked  her  by  the  sleeve,  reiterating  again  and 
again,  "  Pardon  !  pardon  !  entreat  your  mother's  pardon  I " 

But  the  terrible  turn  affairs  had  taken  had  driven  the 
thought  of  pardon,  or  the  need  of  it,  from  her  mind.  "  I 
tell  you  I  am  his  wife  !  Ah,  3'ou  think  tliat  cannot  be,  but 
it  is  true ;  the  Irish  priest  married  us  four  months  ago  in 
Las  l*arras.    Let  me  go,  Feliz,  let  me  go  !    I  am  his  wife  !  " 

*' This  is  madness!"  interrupted  Doiia  Isabel,  in  a 
voice  of  such  preternatural  calmness  that  her  daughter 
turned  as  if  awestrickcn  to  look  at  her.  "  Unhappy  girl, 
you  cannot  have  been  that  man's  wife.  You  have  bi'cn 
betrayed  !  Child  !  child  !  the  house  of  Garcia  ih  disgraced  !" 

A  chill  fell  upon  the  governess,  yet  she  si)oke  sharply, 
almost  pertly:  "Not  disgraced  by  Ilerliiida,  Madame. 
She  was  indeed  married  to  John  Aside}',  in  the  parish 
church  of  Las  Parras,  by  the  missionary  priest.  Father 
Magauley." 

Tiie  long,  slow  glance  of  incredulity  changing  into 
deepest  scorn  which  Dona  Isabel  turned  upon  the  gover- 
ness seemed  to  scorch,  to  wither  her.  She  actually 
cowered  beneath  it,  faltering  forth  entreaties  for  pardon, 
ratlier,  be  it  said  to  her  honor,  for  the  unhappy  Herlinda 
than  for  herself.  Meanwhile,  with  lightning  rapidity,  the 
events  of  the  last  few  months  passed  through  the  mind  of 
Dona  Isabel.  Yes,  yes,  it  had  been  possible ;  there  had 
been  opportunity  for  this  base  work.  Her  eyes  clouded, 
her  breast  heaved  ;  had  she  held  a  weapon  in  her  hand, 
the  intense  passion  that  possessed  her  might  have  sought 
a  method  more  powerful  tliau  words  in  liuding  for  itself 


trd 


CFTATA   AND  CHTNITA. 


29 


the  listeners, 
id  rend  upon 
ly  to  her  own 
lughter's  arm 
isation.  Per- 
ng  her  hands 
ng,  ^'Myhus- 
he  cannot  be 

derbolt  among 
it  Dona  Fehz 
back.    "Tell 

the  frightened 
ting  again  and 
lier's  pardon  I " 
lad  driven  the 
her  mind.     "  I 

cannot  be,  but 

months  ago  in 
[  am  his  wile  !  " 
a  Isabel,  in  a 
t  her  daughter 
•  Unhappy  girl, 
You  have  bi-en 
a  in  disgraced !" 

spoke  sharply, 
iiida,  Madame. 
',  in  the  parish 
'  priest,  Father 

changing  into 
upon  tiie  gover- 
She  actually 
.ties  for  pardon, 
ihappy  Herlinda 
ing  rapidity,  the 
)ugh  the  mind  of 
isible ;  there  had 
er  eyes  clouded, 
)on  in  her  hand, 
ight  have  sought 
finding  for  itself 


I 


expression.  As  it  was,  she  turned  away,  sick  at  heart, 
lu'r  brain  afire.  Doiia  Feliz  had  placed  a  strong,  firm 
hand  over  Herlinda's  lips.  "It  is  useless,"  she  said  in  a 
voice  like  Fate.     "You  will  never  see  him  again." 

Herlinda  comprehended  that  tliose  words  but  expressed 
the  unspoken  iiat  of  her  mother.  She  shuddered  and 
fnoaned.  "Mother!  mother!"  she  said  faintly,  "he 
loved  me.  I  loved  him  so,  mother!  Mother,  I  have 
spoken  the  truth ;  Mademoiselle  will  tell  you  all ;  I  was 
indeed  his  wife." 

Dona  Isabel  would  not  trust  herself  to  look  at  her 
daughter.  She  dared  not,  so  strong  at  that  moment  was 
her  resentment  of  her  daring,  so  deep  the  shame  of  its 
consequences.  "  Vile  woman  !  "  she  said  to  the  governess, 
in  low,  penetrating  tones  of  concentrated  passion;  "you 
who  have  avowed  yourself  the  accomplice  of  yon  dead 
villain,  toll  me  all.  Let  me  know  whether  you  were  sim- 
ply treacherously  ignorant,  or  treacherously  base.  Silence, 
Herlinda !  nor  dare  ir  my  presence  shed  one  tear  for  the 
wretch  who  betrayed  you." 

But  her  commands  were  unheeded.  The  present  an- 
guish overcame  the  habits  and  fears  of  a  whole  life,  —  as, 
alas  !  a  passionate  love  had  once  before  done.  But  then  she 
had  been  under  the  domination  of  her  lover,  and  had  been 
separated  from  the  mother,  whose  very  shadow  would 
have  deterred  and  prevented  her.  Now,  even  the  deep  sever- 
ity of  that  mother's  voice  fell  on  unheeding  ears.  Though 
tears  came  not,  piteous  groans,  mingled  with  the  name  of 
her  love,  burst  from  the  heart  of  the  wretched  girl,  who 
leaned  like  a  broken  lily  upon  the  breast  of  Doiia  Feliz,  who 
from  the  moment  that  Herlinda  had  declared  herself  a 
wife  gazed  upon  her  with  looks  of  deep  compassion,  alter- 
nating with  those  of  anxious  curiosity  toward  Doiia  Isa- 
bel, whose  every  glance  she  had  learned  to  interpret. 
She  was  a  woman  of  great  intelligence,  yet  it  appeared  to 
her  as  though  Doiia  Isabel,  who  was  queen  and  absolute 
mistress  on  her  own  domain,  had  but  to  speak  the  word 
and  set  her  daughter  in  any  position  she  might  claim. 
The  supremacy  of  the  Garcias  was  her  creed, — that  by 
which  she  had  lived  ;  was  it  to  be  contradicted  now  ? 

"Tell  me  all,"  reiterated  Dona  Isabel,  in  the  concen- 
trated voice  of  deep  and  terrible  passion,  as  the  cowering 


30 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


i^  ill 


I  ■  , 


govorncss  vainly  strove  to  frame  words  that  might  least 
oU'end.  "  How  did  this  troaclicry  occur?  Where  and 
how  did  you  give  that  fellow  opportunity  to  compass  his 
base  designs?" 

Herlinda  started ;  she  would  have  spoken,  hut  Dona 
F'eliz  restrained  her  by  the  strong  pressure  of  her  arm  ; 
and  the  faltering  voice  of  the  governess  attempted  some 
explanation  and  justification  of  an  event,  which,  almost 
unparalleled  in  Mexico,  could  not  have  been  foreseen  per- 
haps even  by  the  jealous  care  of  the  most  anxious  mother. 

''This  is  all  I  have  to  tell,"  she  stammered.  "You 
remember  you  sent  us  to  Las  Parras  six  months  ago,  just 
after  you  had  refused  3'our  daughter's  hand  to  Joiin  Ash- 
ley, and  promised  it  to  Vieente  Gonzales.  We  remained 
there  in  exile  nearl}-  two  months.  Herlinda  was  wretched. 
What  was  there  to  console  or  enliven  her  in  that  misera- 
ble village?  Separated  from  her  sister,  from  you,  Madame, 
whom  she  deeply  loved  even  while  she  feared,  Avhat  had 
she  to  do  but  nurse  her  grief  and  despair,  which  grew  daily 
stronger  on  the  food  of  tears  and  solitude?  At  Ih'st  slie 
was  too  proud  to  speak  to  me  of  that  which  caused  her 
sleejjless  nights  and  unhappy  da3's.  But  my  looks  must 
have  expressed  the  pit}'  I  felt.  She  threw  herself  into  mj- 
arms  one  daj^  and  sobbed  out  her  sad  tale  upon  my 
bosom.  She  had  spoken  to  this  Ashley  but  a  few  times, 
and  then  in  your  presence,  Madame  ;  but  in  your  country 
the  eye  seems  the  messenger  of  love.  She  declared  that 
she  could  not  live,  she  would  not,  were  she  separated  from 
John  Ashley ;  that  the  day  of  her  marriage  with  Vicente 
Gonzales  should  be  the  day  of  her  death." 

"  To  the  point,"  interrupted  Dona  Isabel  in  an  icy  tone. 
"I  had  heard  all  this.  Even  in  John  Ashley's  very 
presence  Herlinda  had  forgotten  her  dignity  and  mine. 
This  is  not  what  I  would  know.  " 

"  But  it  leads  to  it,  Madame,"  cried  the  governess, 
deprecatingly,  "for  while  I  was  in  the  state  of  mingled 
pity  and  perplexity'  caused  by  Herlinda's  words,  a  message 
was  brought  to  me  that  John  Ashley  was  at  the  door.  I 
went  to  speak  to  him.  Yielding  to  his  entreaties,  I  even 
allowed  him  to  see  Herlinda.  How  could  I  guess  it  was 
to  urge  a  course  which  only  the  most  remarkable  combin- 
ation of  events  could  have  made  possible?" 


mut 


slie 
that 


reac 
the 
rate 
brat 


CI/ATA   AND  CITINTTA. 


31 


"Intrigante,"  muttered  Doiia  Isabel,  bltterl}'. 

'^  You,"  continued  the  governess,  pic^iied  tind  emboldened 
by  the  adjective,  "angered  by  the  sight  of  him  as  you 
passed  the  reduction-works,  had  yourself  invented  a  pie- 
toxt  for  sending  him  to  vSan  Marcos.  You  could  not  well 
dismiss  him  altogether  from  a  position  he  lilled  so  well, 
lie  might,  you  thought,  reveal  the  reason." 

"  Deal  not  with  my  motives,"  interrupted  the  lady 
haughtily.  "  It  is  true  I  sent  him  to  San  Marcos.  And 
what  then  ?  " 

"Then,  by  chance,  he  learned  what  hero  no  servant 
had  dared  to  tell  him,  —  the  name  of  the  village  to  which 
Horlinda  had  been  sent,  so  near  3'our  own  hacienda,  too, 
that  he  had  never  once  suspected  it.  And  there  he  met 
a  countryman.  These  English,  Irish,  Americans, — they 
are  all  bound  together  by  a  common  language ;  and  he, 
this  poor  priest,  entirely  ignorant  of  Spanish,  coldly  re- 
ceived even  by  his  clerical  brethren,  was  glad  to  spend  a 
few  days  in  a  trip  with  Ashley ;  and  as  they  rode  together 
over  the  thirty  leagues  of  mountain  and  valley  between 
San  Marcos  and  Las  Parras,  he  formed  a  great  liking  for 
the  pleasant  youth,  and  bej'ond  gently  rallying  him,  made 
no  opposition  to  staying  over  a  night  in  the  village,  and 
joining  him  in  holy  matrimony  to  the  woman  of  his  choice, 
whom  he  imagined  to  be  a  poor  but  pretty  peasant,  so 
modest  were  our  surroundings." 

Doiia  Isabel's  face  darkened.  "  Hasten !  hasten !  "  she 
muttered.     "  I  see  it  all ;  deluded,  unhappy  girl." 

"Unhappy,  yes!"  cried  the  governess.  "Prophetic 
were  the  tears  that  coursed  over  her  cheeks,  as  she  went 
with  me  to  the  chapel  in  the  early  morning,  and  there  in 
tlie  presence  of  a  few  peasants  who  had  never  seen  her 
before,  or  failed  to  recognize  her  under  the  dingy  reboso 
she  wore,  was  married  to  the  j'oung  American." 

"  Ignorant  imbeciles  ! "  ejaculated  Doiia  Isabel,  but  so  low 
that  no  one  distinctly  caught  her  words.  "  And  this  tnar- 
riage  as  you  call  it,  in  what  language  was  it  performed  ?  " 

"Oh,  in  English,"  answered  Mademoiselle  La  Croix, 
readily.  "  The  priest  knew  no  other.  Immediate I3''  after 
the  ceremony  the  bell  sounded,  the  groom  and  bride  sepa- 
rated, the  people  streamed  in,  and  Holy  Mass  was  cele- 
brated, thus  consecrating  the  marriage.    Reassure  yourself, 


32 


CTTATA   AND   C/r/N/TA. 


Dona  Isabel,  all  was  ri<!;ht ;  the  pood  i)riost  gave  a  certifi- 
cate in  due  form,  wliicli  doubtless  will  be  found  among 
John  Ashley's  papers." 

In  spite  of  the  stony  yet  furious  gaze  with  which  Dofiii 
Isabel  had  listened  to  these  particulars,  the  governess  had 
gathered  confidence  as  she  proceeded,  and  ended  witli  a 
feeling  that  the  most  jealous  doubter  must  be  convinced, 
the  most  inveterate  opponent  silenced. 

But  far  otherwise  was  the  effect  of  her  narrative  upon 
Dona  Isabel ;  she  had  been  deceived  by  her  own  daughter, 
befooled  by  her  hirelings.  Her  keen  intelligence  declared 
to  her  at  once  the  fatal  irregularity  of  the  ceremony.  It 
indeed  vindicated  the  purity  of  Ilerlinda,  but  could  it  save 
her  from  dishonor  ?  Thoughts  of  vague  yet  terrible  mean- 
ing tormented  her.  The  horrors  of  a  past  day  returned 
with  fresh  complications  to  menace  and  torture  her ;  and 
even  had  it  been  possible  at  that  moment  for  her  b}'  one 
word  to  prove  her  daughter  the  honorable  widow  of  John 
Ashley,  it  would  have  caused  her  a  thousand  pangs  to  have 
uttered  it ;  and  could  one  single  word  have  brought  him  to 
life,  she  would  have  condemned  herself  to  perpetual  dumb- 
ness. A  frenzy  of  shame  and  baflled  intents  possessed  her. 
But  her  thoughts  were  not  of  these.  She  knew  that  this  mar- 
riage as  it  stood  was  void ;  it  met  the  requirements  of  neither 
Church  nor  State.  Yet  —  3'et  —  j'ct  —  there  were  possibili- 
ties :  her  family  were  powerful,  her  wealth  was  great. 

Dona  Feliz  watched  her  with  deep,  inquiring  e^'cs.  Her 
child  stood  there,  a  voiceless  pleader,  her  utter  abandon- 
ment of  grief  appealing  to  the  heart  of  the  mother ;  l)ut 
between  them  was  an  impregnable  wall  of  pride  and  a 
cloud  of  possibilities  which  confused  and  distracted  her. 
She  came  to  no  determination,  made  no  resolve,  but  clasp- 
ing her  hands  over  her  ej'cs,  stood  as  if  a  gulf  had  opened 
in  her  path,  —  from  which  she  could  not  turn,  and  over 
which  she  dared  not  pass.  Slowly,  at  last,  she  dropped 
her  arms,  resumed  her  usual  aspect  of  composure,  and 
passed  from  the  room.  For  some  moments  the  litth^ 
group  she  had  left  remained  motionless.  A  profound  still- 
ness reigned  throughout  the  house.  Time  itself  seemed 
arrested,  and  the  one  word  breathed  through  the  silence 
seemed  to  describe  the  whole  world  to  those  within  the 
walls,  —  "dead!  dead!  dead!" 


i 


V. 


arrativc  upon 
)wn  tlau^htor, 
cnco  declared 
•eremony.     It 
b  could  it  save 
terrible  mcan- 
;  day  returned 
rture  her ;  and 
for  her  by  one 
widow  of  John 
pangs  to  have 
brought  him  to 
erpetual  dumb- 
3  possessed  her. 
w  that  this  mar- 
mcnts  of  neither 

c  were  possibili- 
was  great, 
liring  eyes.  Her 
■  utter  abandon- 
the  mother ;  but 
of  pride  and  a 
I  distracted  her. 
3Solve,  but  clasp- 
gulf  had  opened 
t'^turn,  and  over 
ast,  she  dropped 
'  composure,  and 
oraents  the  littler 
A  profound  still- 
ime  itself  seemed 
rough  the  silence 
those  within  the 


As  Dofia  Isabel  Garcia  turned  from  her  daughter's 
apartment,  she  stepped  into  a  corridor  flooded  with  the 
d:iz/ling  sunshiuc  of  a  perfect  morning,  and  as  she  passed 
on  in  her  long  bhick  dress,  the  heavily  beamed  roof  inter- 
posing between  her  uncovered  head  and  the  clear  and 
shining  blue  of  the  sk}',  there  was  something  almost  ter- 
rible in  the  stony  ;jjaze  with  which  she  met  the  glance 
of  the  woman -servant  who  hurried  after  her  to  know  if 
she  would  as  usual  break  her  fast  in  the  little  arbor  near 
the  fountain.  It  terrified  the  woman,  who  drew  back  with 
a  muttered  "Pardon,  Senora!"  as  the  lady  swept  b}' 
her,  and  entered  her  own  chamber. 

The  volcano  of  feeling  which  surged  within  her  burst 
forth,  not  in  sobs  and  cries,  not  in  passionate  interjec- 
tions, but  in  the  tones  of  absolute  horror  in  which  she 
uttered  the  two  names  that  had  severally  been  to  her 
the  dearest  upon  earth,  —  "Leon!"  and  "IlerUnda!" 
and  which  at  that  moment  were  equally  S3'non3'mou8 
of  all  most  terrible,  most  dreaded,  and  were  the  most 
powerful  factors  amid  the  love,  the  honor,  the  pride,  tho 
passions  and  prejudices  which  controlled  her  being. 

For  a  time  she  stood  in  the  centre  of  her  apartment, 
striking  unconsciously  with  her  clenched  hand  upon  her 
breast  blows  that  at  another  time  would  have  been  keenly 
felt,  but  the  swelling  emotions  within  rendered  her  in- 
sensible to  mere  bodily  pain.  Indeed,  as  the  moments 
passed  it  brought  a  certain  relief;  and  as  her  walking  to 
and  fro  brought  her  at  last  in  front  of  the  window  wliich 
opened  upon  the  broad  prospect  to  the  west,  she  paused, 
and  looked  long  and  fixedly  toward  the  reduction-works, 
as  if  her  vision  could  penetrate  the  stone  walls,  and  read 
the  mind  which  had  perished  with  the  man  who  lay  mur- 
dered within  them. 

As  she  stood  thus,  she  presently  became  aware  that  a 
souaid  which  she  had  heard  without  heeding,  —  as  one 

.3 


34 


ClfATA   AND   CIUNITA. 


I 


ignores  passing  vibrations  upon  tlio  air,  that  bring  no 
special  cciio  of  the  life  of  wliich  we  are  active,  conscious 
parts,  —  was  persistently  striving  to  make  itself  heard; 
and  with  an  ellbrt  she  turned  to  the  door,  ti|)on  which  fell 
another  timid  knock,  and  bade  the  siipi)liant  enter;  for 
the  very  echo  of  his  knocking  proclaimed  a  8ii[)pliant. 
She  started  as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  haggard  face  of 
I'edro  the  gate-keeper. 

He  entered  almost  stealthil}',  closing  the  door  softly 
behind  him.  "  Senora,"  he  whispered,  coming  up  to  her 
quite  closel}',  extending  his  hands  In  a  deprecating  wa}', 
"  Sefiora,  by  the  golden  keys  of  my  patron,  I  swear  to 
you  I  was  powerless.  Don  Juan  told  me  he  had  your 
Grace's  own  authority ;  he  told  me  they  were  married !  " 

Dona  Isabel  started.  In  the  same  sentence  the  man 
had  so  skilfully  mingled  truth  and  falsehood  that  even 
she  was  deceived.  By  representing  to  his  mistress  that 
Ashley  had  used  lier  name  to  gain  entrance  to  the  haci- 
enda, he  had  hoped  to  divert  her  anger  from  himself,  — 
and  what  matter  though  it  fell  unjustly  upon  the  dead 
man?  But  in  fact  the  second  phrase  of  the  sentence, 
"  He  told  mc  they  were  married,"  was  what  struck  most 
keenly  upon  the  ear  of  Doiia  Isabel,  and  chilled  her  very 
blood.  How  much,  then,  did  this  servant  know?  How  far 
was  she  in  his  power?  Until  that  moment  she  had  not 
known  —  had  not  suspected  —  that  the  murdered  man 
and  the  murderer  had  been  within  the  walls  of  the  haci- 
enda buildings.  This  knowledge  but  confirmed  her  intui- 
tions !  Partly  to  learn  facts  which  might  guide  her,  and 
partly  to  gain  time,  she  looked  with  her  coldest,  most  pet- 
rifying gaze  upon  the  man,  and  asked  him  what  he  meant, 
and  bade  him  tell  her  all,  even  as  he  would  confess  to  the 
priest,  for  so  only  he  might  hope  to  escape  her  most 
severe  displeasure. 

As  she  spoke,  she  had  glided  behind  him  and  slipped 
the  bolt  of  the  door,  and  stood  before  the  solid  slab  of 
unpolished  but  time-darkened  cedar,  a  very  monument  of 
wrath.  Pedro  trembled  more  than  ever,  but  was  not  for 
that  the  less  consistent  in  his  tale  of  mingled  truth  and 
falsehood.     He  bad  begun  it  with  the  name  ' '  The  Sen- 


orita  Herlinda,"  but 
portentous  frown. 


Doiia  Isabel   stopped   him  with  a 


liiii' 


CI/ATA   AND  ClUNITA. 


35 


"  ITor  namo,"  she  finid,  *'  my  dftiif^litor'a  nanio  need  not 
1)0  mentioned.  She  knows  nothing  of  the  wonuin  .lohn 
Ashley  esune  here  to  wee,  if  there  is  one ;  the  Sofiorita 
Ilcilinda  lias  nothing  to  do  witli  her,  nor  with  your  tale. 
Troeeed." 

rcch'o,  not  so  deeply  versed  in  the  dissimulation  of  the 
higher  class  as  was  Dofia  Isabel  in  that  of  the  lower, 
looked  at  her  a  moment  in  utter  incredulity.  lie  learned 
nothing  from  her  iujpassivc  face,  but  with  the  quickwitted- 
ness  of  his  race  divined  that  one  of  the  many  dark-eyed 
damsels  who  served  in  the  house  was  to  be  considered 
the  cause  of  Ashley's  midnight  visits.  In  that  light,  his 
own  breach  of  trust  seemed  more  venial.  Uncousciousl}', 
he  shaped  his  story  to  that  end,  and  even  took  to  himself 
a  sort  of  comfort  in  feigning  to  belijve,  what  in  his  heart 
he  knew  to  be  an  assumption  —  whether  merely  verbal 
or  actual  he  knew  not  —  of  Dona  Isabel. 

The  arguments  by  which  he  had  bcvMi  i'viueed  by  Ash- 
ley to  open  the  doors  of  the  haeieniia  lor  his  midnight 
admittance  he  would  have  dwelt  on  at  some  length,  but 
Dona  Isabel  stopped  him.  "  Tell  me  only  of  what  hai)- 
pened  last  night,"  she  said ;  and  in  a  low  whisi)er  ho 
obeyed,  shuddering  as  'le  spoke  of  the  man  whom  he 
had  admitted  under  the  guise  of  a  peasant,  and  who  had 
rushed  out  to  encounter  the  devoted  American,  as  a  mad- 
man or  wild  beast  mi».ht  rush  upon  its  prey. 

At  his  description,  eloquent  in  its  brevit}-,  Dofia  Isabel 
for  a  moment  lost  her  calmness ;  her  face  dropped  upon 
her  hands ;  her  figure  shrank  together. 

"Tedro!"  she  murmured,  "Pedro I  you  knew  him? 
You  are  certain?  "  she  continued  in  a  low,  eager  voice. 

"Certain,  Senora  !  Should  I  be  likelj'  to  be  mistaken? 
I,  who  have  held  him  upon  my  knees  a  thousand  times ; 
who  first  taught  him  to  ride  ;  who  saw  him  when  —  " 

Dona  Isabel  stopped  the  enumeration  Avith  a  gesture. 
She  paused  a  moment  in  deep  thought ;  then  she  extended 
her  hand,  and  the  man  bent  over  it,  not  daring  to  touch  it, 
but  reverently,  as  if  it  were  that  of  a  queen  or  a  saint. 

"Silence,  Pedro!"  she  said.  "Silence!  One  word, 
and  the  law  would  be  upon  him, — though  God  knows 
there  should  be  no  law  to  avenge  these  false  Americans, 
who  respect  neither  authority  nor  hospitality,  and  would 


i 


36 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


t 


take  our  very  country  from  us.  Pedro,  this  deed  must 
not  bring  fresh  disaster ;  't  was  a  mistake ;  but  as  you 
hve,  as  I  pardon  you  the  share  you  bore  in  it,  keep 
silence ! " 

Tiie  words  were  not  an  entreaty ;  they  were  a  com- 
mand. Dofia  Isabel  understood  too  well  the  ascendency 
wliich  as  lords  of  the  soil  the  Garcias  held  over  all  who 
had  been  born  and  bred  on  their  estates,  to  take  the  false 
step  of  lessening  it  by  an}'  act  of  wcikness.  She  com- 
prehended that  that  ver}'  ascendency'  had  led  him  to  open 
the  gates  to  the  declared  husband  of  Hcrlinda  —  ay  !  as  to 
her  lover  he  would  have  opened  them.  It  was  the  house 
of  Garcia  he  served,  as  represented  b}'  the  individual  pos- 
sessing the  dominant  influr  ice  of  the  hour.  As  occasion 
offered,  he  and  his  associates  would  have  favored  the  inter- 
ests of  any  mciiDer  in  affairs  of  love,  believing  the  intrigue 
the  natural  pleasure  of  youth,  and  conceiving  it  presump- 
tion to  impugn  the  actions  of  one  of  the  seigneurial  famil}'. 

Dona  Isabel  became,  at  this  time,  when  the  terrible 
consequences  of  his  levity  overpowered  him,  the  control- 
Hng  power,  and  with  absolute  genius  in  a  few  words,  ad- 
mitting nothing,  explaining  nothing,  offering  no  reward, 
she  made  the  conscience-stricken  man  the  keeper  of  the 
honor  of  the  powerful  house  of  which  he  was  but  the  veri- 
est minion. 


Within  the  hour,  while  the  people  still  thronged  the 
walls  of  the  reduction- works.  Dona  Feliz  left  the  great 
house.  The  few  who  witnessed  her  departure  were  ac- 
customed to  the  peremptor}'  commands  of  the  Scfiora 
Dona  Isabel  and  the  instant  obedience  of  her  confidential 
servant,  and  had  as  little  speculation  in  their  minds  as  in 
the  gaze  with  which  the}'  followed  the  carriage  and  its 
outriders,  —  yet  murmured  a  few  words  of  pity  for  those 
who,  after  the  horror  of  the  tragedy,  would  lose  the 
sombre  splendor  of  the  rites  which  must  necessarily 
follow. 

Upon  the  next  day,  John  Ashley,  carried  in  procession 
by  the  entire  population  of  men,  women,  .ind  children  of 
Tres  Ilermanos,  excepting  onl}'  the  immediate  family  of 
Doiia  Isabel  and  Pedro  the  gate-keeper,  was  borne  across 
the  wide  valley,  up  the  bleak  hillside,  and  laid  in  a  corner 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


37 


of  the  low-wallcd,  unkempt  graveyard,  among  the  lowly 
dead  of  the  'plehe. 

Not  a  sound  escaped  Herlinda,  as  from  the  windows  of 
her  motlicr's  room  she  watched  the  funeral  procession. 
Siie  liad  intuitivel}'  guessed  the  time  it  would  issue  from 
the  gates  of  the  reduction-works,  and  her  mother  placed 
no  restraint  upon  her  movements.  Through  the  clear  at- 
mosphere of  the  May  day  she  could  perfectly  distinguish 
tlie  form,  ay  the  very  features  of  lier  beloved,  us  lie  la}' 
stretched  upon  a  wide  board  surrounded  by  flowering 
boughs,  his  fair  curls  resting  upon  the  greenery,  his 
hands  clasped  upon  his  breast. 

To  steady  their  steps  perhaps,  rather  than  from  any 
religious  custom,  the  people  sang  one  of  those  minor  airs 
peculiar  to  the  country,  and  which  are  at  once  so  sad  and 
shrill  that  the  piercin  wail  reached  even  so  far  as  the 
great  house,  —  a  weird  accompaniment  to  the  swaying  of 
the  ghostly  white  lengths  of  candles  borne  in  scores  of 
hands,  and  the  pale  Hames  of  which  burned  colorless  in  the 
brilliant  sunshine. 

Strangely  impressive,  oven  to  an  indifferent  eye,  might 
well  have  been  that  scene ;  the  slow  march  of  Death  and 
Woe  across  the  smiling  fields,  blotting  the  clear  radiance 
of  the  cloudless  sk}',  and  awesome  then  even  to  a  careless 
ear  that  wail  of  agouy.  Mademoiselle  La  Croix  burst  into 
tears  and  threw  herself  upon  the  floor.  Doiia  Isabel, 
deadly  pale,  covered  her  eyes  with  a  hand  as  cold  and 
white  as  snow.  HerUnda  sank  upon  her  knees  with  parted 
lips  and  straining  e3'es  to  watch  the  form  upborne  before 
that  dark  and  sinuous  procession ;  but  when  it  became  lost 
to  view  amid  the  throng  which  encircled  the  open  grave, 
she  fell  prone  to  the  floor  with  such  a  moan  as  only  woe 
itself  can  utter,  —  a  moan  that  seemed  the  outburst  of  a 
niiuldened  brain  and  a  bursting  heart. 

1'hat  night  instead  of  lamentation  the  sounds  of  festiv- 
ity began  to  be  heard,  and  days  of  revelry  among  the 
poasantsi  followed  the  hours  of  horror  and  gloom  which 
had  for  a  brief  period  prevailed.  In  the  midst  of  them 
Dona  Feliz  returned  to  the  hacienda.  Wherever  her  jour- 
ney had  led  her  it  had  outwardly  been  unimportant,  and 
drew  but  little  comment  from  the  men  who  had  attended 
her,  and  was  speedily  forgotten.      She  herself  gave  no 


38 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


description  of  it,  nor  volunteered  any  information  as  to 
its  object  or  result.  Even  to  Dona  Isabel,  who  raised  in- 
quiring eyes  to  the  face  of  her  emissary  as  she  entered  her 
private  room,  she  said,  briefly,  "No,  there  is  no  record; 
absolutely  none." 

Doiia  Isabel  sank  back  in  her  chair  with  a  deep-drawn 
breath  as  if  some  might}'  tension,  both  of  mind  and  body, 
had  suddenly  relaxed.  She  had  herself  sought  in  vain 
through  the  papers  of  Ashley  for  proofs  of  the  alle^^ed 
marriage  with  Herlinda,  and  Feliz  had  scanned  the  public 
records  with  vigilant  eyes.  Part  of  these  records  had  in 
some  pronwiciamiento  been  destroj'ed  by  fire,  but  the 
book  containing  those  of  the  date  she  sought  was  intact. 
The  names  of  John  Ashley  and  Herlinda  Garcia  did  not 
appear  therein ;  the  marriage,  if  marriage  there  had  been, 
was  unrecorded,  and  as  secret  as  it  was  illegal.  Con- 
science was  satisfied,  and  Doiia  Isabel  was  content  to 
be  passive.  Why  bring  danger  upon  one  still  infinitel}' 
dear  to  her?  The  heart  of  Doiia  Isabel  turned  cold  at 
the  thought.  Why  rouse  a  scandal  which  could  so  easily 
be  avoided?  Why  strivti  to  legalize  a  marriage  which 
could  but  bring  ridicule  upon  herself,  and  shame  and  con- 
tempt upon  Herlinda  ? 

That  day,  for  the  first  time  in  many.  Dona  Isabel  could 
force  a  smile  to  her  lip  ;  for  even  for  polic}'  it  had  not  been 
possible  for  her  to  smile  before.  She  was  by  nature 
neither  cold  nor  cruel,  but  she  had  been  brought  up  in 
the  midst  of  petty  intrigues,  of  violent  passions  and  nar- 
row prejudices ;  and  while  she  had  scorned  them,  they 
had  moulded  her  mind,  — as  the  constant  wearing  of  rock 
upon  rock  forms  the  hollow  in  the  one,  and  rounds  the 
jagged  surface  of  the  other.  What  would  have  been 
monstrous  to  her  youth  became  natural  to  her  middle  age. 
She  had  suffered  and  striven.  Was  it  not  the  common 
lot  of  woman  ?  What  more  natural  than  that  her  daughter 
should  do  the  same  ?  And  what  more  natural  than  that  the 
mother  should  raise  her  who  had  fallen  ?  —  for  fallen  in- 
deed, in  spite  of  the  ceremony  of  marriage,  would  the  world 
think  Herlinda.  But  why  should  the  world  know?  She 
l)itied  her  daughter,  even  as  a  woman  pities  another  in 
travail ;  yet  she  looked  to  the  future,  she  shrank  from 
the  complexities  of  the  present ;  and  so  silently,    elent- 


CHATA  AND  CHUSTITA. 


39 


on  as  to 
raised  in- 
tered  her 

0  record ; 

(cp-drawn 
ind  body, 
t  in  vain 
le  allcr!;cd 
the  pubUc 
ds  had  in 
J,  but  the 
vas  intact. 
3ia  did  not 
had  been, 
gal.     Con- 
content  to 

1  infinitelj' 
>ed  cold  at 
d  so  easily 
iage  which 
le  and  con- 

sabel  could 
id  not  been 

by  nature 
ught  up  in 
s  and  nar- 

them,  they 
•ing  of  rock 
rounds  the 

have  been 
middle  age. 
ihe  common 
ler  daughter 
han  that  the 
for  fallen  in- 
ild  the  world 
know?    She 
s  another  in 
shrank  from 
3ntly,    elent- 


lessly,  shaping  her  course,  ignoring  circumstance,  she,  like 
a  goddess  making  a  law  unto  herself,  thus  unflinchingly 
ordered  the  destiny  of  her  child.  Could  she  herself  have 
divined  the  various  motives  that  influenced  her?  Na}', 
no  more  perhaps  than  the  circumstances  which  will  be 
developed  in  this  tale  may  make  clear  the  love,  the 
woman's  purity,  the  high-born  lady's  pride,  that  all  com- 
bined to  bid  her  ignore  the  marriage,  rvhich,  though  irreg- 
ular, had  evidently  been  made  in  good  faith ;  and  for 
which,  in  spite  of  open  malice  or  secret  innuendo,  the 
power  and  influence  of  her  family  could  have  won  the 
Tope's  sanction,  and  so  silenced  the  cavillings  if  not  the 
gossip  of  the  world. 


VI. 


And  thus  in  tliat  remote  hacienda  —  a  little  world  in 
itself,  with  all  the  mingled  elements  of  wealth  and  i)ov- 
crty,  and  all  those  eubtile  dilferences  of  caste  and  char- 
acter which  form  society,  in  circles  small  as  well  as 
great  —  began  a  drama,  which  to  the  initiated  was  of  deep 
and  absorbing  interest.  To  the  common  mind  despair 
and  agony  can  have  no  existence  if  they  do  not  declare 
themselves  in  groans  and  tears,  and  to  such  Herlinda's 
deep  pallor  and  her  silence  revealed  nothing ;  but  there 
were  a  few  who  watched  in  solemn  apprehension,  feeling 
hers  to  be  like  the  intense  and  sulphurous  calm  with 
which  Nature  awaits  the  coming  of  the  tempest. 

But  there  were  indeed  few  who  saw  in  her  anj'  change 
other  than  the  events  and  anxieties  of  the  time  rendered 
natural.  At  first  indeed  there  had  been  whispers  in  cor- 
ners, and  half-pitying,  half-fearful  shrugs  and  glances ; 
but  almost  from  the  day  of  Ashley's  burial  a  new  and 
fearful  cause  of  public  interest  drew  attention  from  Her- 
linda,  from  her  pallor  and  her  wide-eyed  gaze  of  horror, 
to  the  consideration  of  a  more  personal  anxiety. 

The  common  people  declared  that  from  the  night  of  the 
murder,  death,  unsatisfied  with  one  victim,  had  hovered 
over  the  hacienda.  The  rains  which  should  have  fallen 
after  the  long  dry  winter,  with  cleansing  and  copious  force, 
Hooding  the  ravines  and  carrying  awa}-  the  accumulated 
impurities  of  months,  had  but  moistened  and  stirred  the 
infected  mud  of  the  stagnant  water-courses  and  set  loose 
the  fevers  which  lingered  in  their  depths.  Years  afterward 
the  peasants  dated  man}-  a  widowhood  and  orphanage  from 
those  plague-stricken  weeks.  There  was  one  death  or 
more  in  every  hut,  and  even  the  great  house  did  not 
escape  its  quota  of  victims.  One  after  another,  members 
of  the  families  of  the  clerks  and  ollicers  succumbed,  — the 
major-domo  of  the  courts  among  the  first,  and  then  Made- 
moiselle La  Croix,  vao  indeed,  it  was  afterward  observed, 


CHAT  A   AND   CHINITA. 


41 


bad  from  the  first  sickened  and  fallen  into  a  dejection, 
from  which  it  was  almost  impossible  she  should  rally.  The 
governess  was  the  object  of  the  most  devotod  care  even 
from  the  usually  cold  and  stately  Dona  Isabel,  while  the 
panic-stricken  Herlinda,  careless  of  her  own  danger,  bent 
over  her  with  agonized  and  fruitless  efforts  to  recall  the 
waning  life,  or  soothe  the  parting  and  remorseful  soul. 

But  in  all  that  terrible  time  this  was  the  only  event 
that  seemed  to  touch  or  rouse  her ;  for  the  rest,  one  might 
have  thought  those  dreadful  days  but  the  ordinary  calen- 
dar of  Herlinda's  life.  Indeed,  it  is  to  be  supposed  that 
they  suited  so  weL  the  desolation  of  her  spirit,  and  that 
they  presented  so  congruous  a  setting  to  her  molancholy, 
that  it  became  merged  and  absorbed  as  it  were  in  her 
surroundings,  and  so  was  unpc-'cived,  save  as  the  fitting 
humor  of  a  time  when  ease  and  mirth  would  have  been  an 
insult  to  the  general  woe. 

Doiia  Isabel  had  announced  her  intention  of  replacing 
the  director  of  the  reduction-works ;  but  time  went  on, 
and  in  the  general  consternation  produced  by  the  epi- 
demic nothing  was  done.  There  was  much  sickness  at 
the  works ;  many  of  the  most  experienced  hands  died ; 
and  one  day  when  the  clerk  in  charge  was  at  the  crisis  of 
the  fever,  the  men  who  were  not  incapacitated  from  ill- 
ness went  by  common  consent  to  the  tienda  to  stupefy 
themselves  with  fiery  native  brand}' ;  and  Doiia  Isabel, 
who  was  fearlessly  passing  from  one  poor  hovel  to  another, 
aiding  the  village  doctress  and  the  priest  in  their  offices, 
ordered  the  mules  to  be  taken  from  the  tortas,  and  the 
stamps  to  be  stopped.  Thus,  as  the  masses  half  mixed 
lay  upon  the  floors,  they  gradually  dried  and  hardened ; 
and  as  the  great  stone  wheels  ceased  to  turn  in  the  beds  of 
broken  ores,  so  for  years  upon  years  they  remained,  and 
the  works  at  Tres  Ilermanos  graduiill}'  fell  into  ruin,  — a 
fit  haunt  for  the  ghost  which,  as  years  went  by,  was  said 
to  haunt  their  shades.  But  this  was  long  afterward,  when 
the  memory  of  the  handsome  and  hapless  youth  had  be- 
come almost  as  a  myth,  mingled  with  the  thousand  talcs  of 
blood  which  the  fluctuating  fortunes  of  years  of  international 
and  civil  war  made  as  common  as  they  were  terrible. 

This  fertile  spot  until  now  had  been  singularly  free 
from  the  terror  and  disorder  that  had  afl'ected  the  greater 


42 


CIIATA   AND  CHINITA. 


part  of  the  country ;  and  though  sharing  the  cxcitc- 
nicnt  of  party  feeling,  the  actual  demands  of  strife  had 
never  invaded  it.  Hut  quick  upon  the  typlioid,  wlien 
the  peasants  who  had  been  si)ared  began  to  thinli  of 
repairing  tlieir  half-ruined  hovels,  many  of  them  were 
sunnnoned  away  with  scant  ceremony.  Don  Julian  Garcia 
ai)peared  at  the  hacienda,  his  uniform  glittering  with  gold 
braid,  buttons,  and  lace,  the  trappings  of  his  horse  more 
gorgeous  even  than  his  own  dress,  lie  was  raising  a 
troop  to  join  his  old  commander,  Santa  Anna,  who  had 
returned  in  triumph  to  the  land  from  which  he  had  been 
banished,  to  lead  the  arms  of  his  countrymen  against  the 
foreign  foe,  which  already  had  begun  its  victorious  march 
within  the  sacred  borders  of  their  country.  In  a  word, 
the  American  War  had  begun,  and  involved  all  factions 
in  one  common  cause,  giving  a  rallying  cry  to  leaders  of 
every  part}',  to  which  even  the  most  ignorant  among  the 
people  responded  with  intuitive  and  unquestioning  ardor. 

Don  Julian  was  uncertain  in  his  politics,  but  not  in  his 
hatreds.  He  heard  the  tale  of  the  murder  ol  the  Ameri- 
can with  complacency ;  the  taking  off  of  one  of  the  her- 
etics seemed  to  him  natural  enough, — it  was  scarcely 
worth  a  second  thought,  certainly  not  a  pause  in  his 
work  of  collecting  troops.  If  Isabel,  he  commented,  had 
writhed  under  wounded  patriotism  as  he  had  done,  the 
American  would  never  have  had  an  opportunity  of  finding 
so  honorable  a  service  in  which  to  die.  Evidently  the 
grudge  of  some  bold  patriot,  this.  What  would  j'ou? 
Mexicans  were  neither  sticks  nor  stones ! 

Herlinda  heard  and  trembled  ;  a  faint  hope,  a  half- 
formed  resolve,  had  wakened  in  her  breast  when  she  had 
hoard  of  the  arrival  of  Don  Julian.  He  was  a  distant 
cousin,  a  man  of  some  influence  in  the  family.  She  re- 
membered him  as  more  frank  and  genial  than  otuers  of 
her  kindred.  An  impulse  to  break  the  seal  of  silence 
came  over  her,  as  she  heard  his  voice  ringing  through  the 
courts  and  the  clank  of  his  spurs  upon  the  stairs ;  but  it 
was  checked  by  the  first  distinct  utterance  of  his  lips, 
which,  like  all  that  followed,  was  a  denunciation  of  the 
perfidious,  the  insatiable,  the  licentious  and  heretical  Amer- 
icans. For  the  first  time,  to  the  indifference  with  which 
she  had  regarded  the  desirability  of  establishing  her  posi- 


tion as 

sation 
and  ill 
knowlc 
nectior 
hut  un 
The  W( 
si)oken 
liopcles 
and  faf 
And 
ing.    C; 
to  some 
Dofia  I 
Hilda,  a 
Sales,  \ 
read  M 
I)rayers 
cause  h 
tlie  sha( 
senility, 
confessi( 
faults  a 
solution 
man,  evj 
upon  th| 
nesses 
of  days  | 
cal ;  but 
ho  Jieedl 
moment 
was  frej 
the  rog| 
troublec 
these  tvj 
repeate(i 
heart  a| 
ediy  reil 
gliding  r 

Somi 
iidor, 
looked 


CI/ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


43 


tion  as  the  acknowledged  wife  of  Aslilc}'  was  added  a  scn- 
siition  of  feiir.  Wliat  had  been  in  her  mind  an  undefined 
and  incomplete  idea  of  the  anger  and  scorn  which  the 
knowledge  of  her  daring  would  cause  among  her  famil}'  con- 
nections, became  now  a  ternf3'ing  dread  as  the  impetuous 
l)iit  unrepented  act  assumed  the  proportions  of  treason. 
The  words  which  at  the  first  opportunity  she  would  have 
spoken  died  upon  her  lips,  and  she  b  ?ame  once  more 
hoi)eless,  impassive,  unresisting,  cold,  w  "iting  what  time 
and  fate  should  bring. 

And  time  passed  on  unflinchingl}-,  and  fate  was  unrelent- 
ing. Carmen,  after  a  slight  attack  of  fever,  had  been  sent 
to  some  relative  in  Guanapila,  and  there  she  still  remained. 
Dona  Isabel's  household  consisted  only  of  herself,  Her- 
linda,  and  the  aged  priest  her  cousin  Don  Francisco  de 
►Sales,  who  though  in  his  dotage  still  at  long  intervals 
read  Mass  in  the  chapel,  baptized  infants,  and  muttered 
prayers  over  the  dying  or  dead,  not  the  less  sincere  be- 
cause he  who  breathed  them  himself  stood  so  far  within 
the  shadow  of  the  tomb.  The  old  man  was  kindl}'  in  his 
senility,  and  spent  long  hours  dozing  in  the  chair  of  the 
confessional,  while  penitents  whispered  in  his  ear  their 
faults  and  sins,  for  which  they  never  failed  to  obtain  ab- 
solution, little  imagining  that  the  placid  mind  of  the  old 
man,  even  when  by  chance  he  was  awake,  dwelt  far  more 
upon  the  scenes  of  his  youth  than  the  follies  and  wicked- 
nesses of  the  present.  Sometimes  he  babbled  harmlessly' 
of  days  long  past,  even  of  sights  and  doings  far  from  cleri- 
cal ;  but  the  priestly  habit  was  second  nature,  and  even  if 
he  heeded  the  confidences  reposed  in  him,  in  his  weakest 
moments  they  never  escaped  his  lips.  To  him  Ilerlinda 
was  free  to  go  a^d  disburden  her  mind,  complying  with 
the  regulations  of  her  Church,  and  seeking  relief  to  her 
troubled  soul.  To  him,  too,  Doiia  Isabel  resorted ;  and 
these  two  women  with  their  tales  of  woe,  which  as  often  as 
repeated  escaped  his  memor}',  roused  faintly  within  his 
heart  an  echo  o^  the  pain  which  he  uneasil}'  and  confus- 
edly remembered  dwelt  in  the  world,  from  which  he  was 
gliding  into  the  peace  beyond. 

Sometimes  at  the  table,  or  as  he  sat  with  them  in  the  cor- 
iidor,  —  the  priest  in  the  s'  nshine,  they  in  the  shade,  —  he 
looked  at  them  with  puzzled  inquiry  iu  his  gaze,  which 


■i! 


':' 


^"l 


44 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


changed  to  mild  satisfaction  at  some  caress  or  fond  word  ; 
for  this  gentle  old  man  was  tenderly  b'  luved,  with  a  sort  of 
superstitious  reverence.  P^ven  Dona  Isabel  attributed  a 
special  sanctity  to  his  blessing,  looking  upon  him  as  an 
automaton  of  the  Church,  which  without  consciousness  of 
its  own  would  —  certain  springs  of  emotion  being  touched 
—  respond  with  admonition  or  blessing,  fraught  with  all 
the  authority  of  the  Supreme  Power.  Dona  Isabel,  as  a 
devout  Komanist,  had  ever  been  scrupulous  in  the  obser- 
vances of  her  Church,  submitting  to  the  8i)iritual  functions 
of  the  clergy  absolutely,  while  she  detested  and  openly 
l)rotested  against  their  licentiousness  and  greed,  as  also 
tlicir  pernicious  interference  in  worldly  affairs.  Therefore 
throughout  her  life,  and  especially  during  her  widowliood, 
she  had  studiously  avoided  the  more  popular  clerg}',  and 
had  sought  the  oracle  of  duty  through  some  clod  of  hu- 
manity', who,  though  dull,  should  be  at  least  free  from 
vices,  —  choosing  by  preference  one  of  her  own  famil}'  to  be 
the  repository  of  her  secrets  and  the  judge  of  her  motives 
and  actions.  Unconsciously  to  herself,  while  outwardly 
and  even  to  her  own  conscience  fullilling  the  requirements 
of  her  Church,  she  had  interpreted  them  by  her  own  will, 
which,  in  justice  let  it  be  said,  had  often  proved  a  wise 
and  loyal  one ;  in  a  word.  Dona  Isabel  Garcia,  with 
exceptional  powers  within  her  grasp,  had  skilfully  and 
astutely  freed  herself  from  those  trammels  which  might 
at  the  present  crisis  have  forced  her  into  a  diametrically 
opposite  course  from  that  which  she  had  determined  to 
pursue,  or  would  at  least  have  forced  her  to  acknowledge 
to  her  own  mind  the  doubtful  nature  of  deeds  that  she 
now  suffered  herself  to  look  upon  as  meritorious.  For 
years,  unconsciously,  her  will  had  imbued  the  judgments 
of  her  spiritual  adviser,  as  the  Padre  Francisco  ^Vas 
called,  and  it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  she  should 
cavil  now,  when  with  complacent  alacrity  ho  echoed  yea 
to  her  yea,  and  nay  to  her  nay,  —  and  as  she  left  him, 
sank  back  into  his  chair  with  a  faint  wonder  at  her  tale, 
to  forget  it  in  his  next  slumber,  or  until  recalled  to  him 
by  the  anguished  out|)ourings  of  Ilcrlinda,  for  whom  ho 
found  no  words  of  guidance  other  than  those  which 
throughout  his  life  he  had  given  to  young  maidens  in 
distress,  the   commendable   ones,   "  Do  as  your   mother 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


45 


directs ; "  though,  as  he  listened  to  her  words,  the  tears 
would  pour  down  his  checks,  and  pitj-ing  phrases  fall  from 
his  trembling  lips.  Poor  Ilerl'nda  would  be  comforted 
for  a  moment  by  his  simple  human  sympathy,  —  even 
weeping  perhaps,  for  at  such  times  the  blessed  relief  of 
tears  was  given  her,  —  yet  found  in  her  darkness  no 
light,  either  human  or  divine. 

Had  Mademoiselle  La  Croix  lived,  Ilerlinda  would  doubt- 
less have  received  from  her  the  impetus  to  tln-ow  herself 
upon  the  pit}'  and  protection  of  her  cousin  Don  Julian, 
wliich  in  spite  of  his  prejudices  he  could  scarcely  have  re- 
fused ;  for  the  governess,  though  she  was  at  first  stunned 
and  terrified  by  the  knowledge  of  the  invalidit}'  of  tho 
marriage,  was  no  coward,  and  would  have  braved  much 
to  reinstate  the  girl  she  had  through  compassion  —  and, 
she  had  with  a  pang  been  obliged  to  own,  through  cupid- 
ity —  aided  to  bring  into  a  false  position.  But  she  had 
scarcely  recovered  her  bewildered  senses,  the  more  bewil- 
dered by  the  incomprehensible  calm  of  Dona  Isabel,  when 
she  was  attacked  by  the  fever,  —  to  which  she  succumbed 
a  month  before  the  appearance  of  the  doughty  warrior, 
whose  blustering  fierceness  would  not-  have  appalled  her  or 
deterred  her  from  urging  Ilerlinda  to  lay  before  him  the 
matter,  whose  vital  importance  the  stunned  young  crea- 
ture failed  to  comprehend. 

Later  it  burst  upon  her,  but  it  was  then  too  late, — 
Don  Julian  had  marched  away  with  his  troops.  She  was 
alone,  —  no  help,  no  counsellor  near.  Alone  ?  Ah,  no  ! 
there  were  human  creatures  near,  who  could  behold  and 
suspect  and  shake  the  head.  Ilerlinda  awoke  to  the 
siiame  of  her  position,  as  a  bird  in  a  net,  striving  to  fl}', 
first  learns  its  danger.  O  God!  where  should  she  fl}-? 
Were  these  careless,  laughing  women  as  unconscious  as 
they  seemed?  Where  might  she  hide  herself  from  these 
languid,  soft  eyes,  which  suddenlj'  might  become  hard  and 
cruel  with  intelligence  ?  Herlinda  drew  her  reboso  around 
her,  and  with  flushing  cheek  traversed  the  shadiest  corri- 
dors in  her  necessary  passages  from  room  to  room,  her 
eyes,  large  with  apprehension,  burning  beneath  her  down- 
cast lids.  Every  day  she  grew  more  restless,  more  beau- 
tiful. She  walked  for  hours  in  the  walled  garden,  which 
the  servants  never  entered.    They  began  to  whisper,  for- 


'i! 


f 


4G 


en  ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


getting  the  gossip  of  months  before,  that  the  chances  of 
war  were  secretly  stealing  the  gayety  and  buoyancy  of 
llerlinda's  youth,  by  keeping  from  her  side  the  playmate 
of  her  childhood,  her  lover  Vicente  Gonzales.  Feliz 
smiled  when  a  garrulous  servant  si)oke  thus  one  day,  but 
ten  minutes  later  entered  the  room  of  Dona  Isabel. 

The  next  morning  it  was  known  that  the  Senorita  Iler- 
linda  was  to  have  change,  was  to  go  to  the  capital,  that 
Mecca  of  all  Mexicans.  Dona  Isabel  and  Feliz  were  to 
accompany  her.  The  clerks  and  overseers  wondered,  and 
shook  their  heads  wisely.  They  had  heard  wild  tales  of 
the  political  factions  which  rendered  the  city  unsafe  to 
woman  as  to  man ;  Santa  Anna's  brief  dictatorship  had 
ended  in  trouble.  Still,  in  that  remote  district  nothing 
was  known  with  certainty,  and  these  bucolic  minds  were 
not  given  to  man}'  conjectures  upon  the  motives  or  move- 
ments of  their  superiors.  If  anything  could  arouse  sur- 
prise, it  was  the  fact  that  the  ladies  were  not  to  travel  b}' 
private  carriage,  as  had  been  the  custom  of  the  Garcias 
from  time  immemorial,  attended  by  a  numerous  escort  of 
armed  rancheros ;  but  being  driven  to  the  nearest  post 
where  the  public  diligence  was  to  be  met,  were  to  proceed 
by  it  most  unostentatiously  upon  their  w.a}'.  This  aroused 
far  more  discussion  than  the  fact  of  the  joi./ne}-  itself; 
though  it  was  unanimously  agreed  that  if  Dona  Isabel 
could  force  herself  to  depart  from  the  accustomed  dignity 
of  the  family,  and  indeed  preserve  a  slight  incognito  up- . 
on  the  road,  her  chances  of  making  the  journey  in  safety 
would  be  greatly  increased. 

Her  resolve  once  made  it  was  acted  upon  instantly,  no 
time  being  allowed  for  news  of  her  departure  to  spread 
abroad  and  to  give  the  bandits  who  infested  the  road  op- 
portunity to  plan  the  f>lojio^  or  carrying  off,  of  so  rich  a 
prize  as  Dona  Isabel  Garcia  and  her  daughter  would  have 
proved.  And  thus,  early  one  November  morning,  —  when 
the  whole  earth  was  covered  with  the  fresh  greenness 
called  into  growth  by  the  rainy  season  which  had  just 
passed,  and  the  azure  of  a  cloudless  sky  hung  its  perfect 
arch  above  the  vallc}',  seeming  to  rest  upon  the  crown-like 
circlet  of  the  surrounding  hills,  —  Herlinda  passed  through 
the  crowd  of  dependents  who,  as  usual  on  such  occasions, 
gathered  at  the  gates  to  see  the  travellers  off.     Dona 


ClIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


47 


Isabel,  who  was  with  her,  was  alTablo,  smiling  and  nod- 
ding to  the  men,  and  mnrmuring  farewell  words  to  the 
ni'jvrost  women ;  bnt  Ilerlinda  was  silent,  and  it  was 
not  until  she  was  seated  in  the  carriage  that  she  threw 
back  the  niboso  which  she  had  drawn  to  iusr  very  eyes, 
revealing  her  face,  which  was  deadly  pale.  As  she 
gazed  lingcringly  around,  half  sadly,  halt"  haughtily, 
with  the  proucl  curve  of  the  \\\^  (though  it  quivered) 
which  made  ail  the  more  striking  her  general  resemblance 
to  her  beautiful  mother,  a  thrill,  they  knew  not  of  what 
or  wh}',  ran  through  the  throng.  For  a  moment  there  was 
a  profound  silence,  in  the  miilst  of  which  the  aged  priest 
raised  his  hand  in  blessing.  Suddenly  a  Hash  of  memor}', 
a  gleam  of  inspiration,  came  over  him  ;  he  turned  aside  the 
hand  of  Dona  Isabel,  which  had  been  extended  in  farewell, 
and  laid  his  ov/n  upon  the  bowed  head  of  her  daughter. 
•'Fear  not,  my  daughter,"  he  said,  "thou  art  blessed. 
Though  I  shall  see  thee  no  more,  my  blessing,  and  the 
blessing  of  God,  shall  be  with  thee." 

The  old  man  turned  away,  leaning  heavily  upon  Dofia 
Rita,  the  wife  of  the  administrador,  who  led  him  tenderly 
away,  and  a  few  minutes  later  he  was  sitting  smiling  at 
her  side,  while  without  were  heard  the  farewell  cries  of 
the  women.  "May  God  go  with  j'ou,  Niiia!  May  you 
soon  return !  Adios,  Nina !  more  beautiful  than  our 
patron  saint !  Adios,  and  joy  be  with  tiice ! "  And  in 
the  midst  of  such  good  wishes,  as  Ilerlinda  still  leaned 
from  the  window,  a  smile  upon  her  lip,  her  hand  waving 
a  farewell,  the  carriage  drove  away  and  the  people  dis- 
persed ;  leaving  Pedro,  the  gate-keeper,  standing  motion- 
less in  the  shadow  of  the  great  door-post,  his  eyes  riveted 
on  the  sands  at  his  feet,  but  seeing  still  the  glance  of 
agon}',  of  warning,  of  entreaty,  which  had  darted  from 
llcrlinda's  eyes,  and  seemed  to  scorch  his  own. 


si 


j 

w 


VII. 


Upon  the  death  of  Madomoisollo  La  Croix,  or  rather 
perhaps  from  the  time  of  her  return  to  the  haeienda  after 
her  ineflcctual  quest,  Dona  Feliz  had  virtually  become  the 
duenna  of  llerllnda.  Not  that  such  an  ofllcc  was  formally 
recognized  or  required  in  the  seclusion  of  Tres  Hermanos, 
but  it  was  nevertheless  true  that  llerlinda  had  seldom 
found  herself  alone,  even  iu  the  walled  garden.  Though 
she  paced  its  narrow  paths  without  companionshii),  she 
had  been  aware  that  her  mother  or  Dona  Feliz  lingered 
near ;  and  it  was  this  consciousness  that  had  steeled  her 
outwardly,  and  forced  her  to  restrain  the  passionate  despair 
that  under  other  circumstances  would  have  burst  forth  to 
relieve  the  tension  of  mind  and  brain.  When  she  at  last 
roused  from  the  apathy  of  despair,  her  days  became  periods 
of  speechless  agony,  but  sometimes  at  night,  when  she  had 
believed  that  Feliz  —  who,  since  Carmen's  departure,  had 
occupied  the  adjacent  room  —  was  asleep,  for  a  few  brief 
moments  she  had  yielded  to  the  demands  of  her  grief,  and 
given  way  to  sobs  and  tears,  to  throw  herself  finally  pros- 
trate before  the  little  altar,  where  she  kept  the  lamp  con- 
stantly burning  before  the  Mother  of  Sorrows.  Thence 
Feliz  at  times  had  raised  her,  and  led  her  to  her  bed,  — 
chill,, unresisting,  more  dead  than  alive,  3'et  putting  aside 
the  arm  that  would  have  supported  her,  and  by  mute  ges- 
tures entreating  to  be  left  to  her  misery. 

Fortunately  for  her  reason,  there  were  times  when  in 
utter  exhaustion  llerlinda  had  slept  hcavil}'  and  awok(! 
refreshed,  — and  this  had  occurred  anight  or  two  after  she 
had  learned,  bj'  a  few  decisive  words  from  her  mother, 
of  her  imminent  removal  from  Tres  Ilerraanos.  She; 
had  retired  early,  and  awoke  to  find  the  soft  and  bril- 
liant moonlight  flooding  her  chamber.  P>ery  article  in 
the  room  was  visible ;  their  shadows  fell  black  upon  the 
tiled  floor,  and  the  lamp  before  the  altar  burned  pale.    A 


C/fATA   AND   ClflNlTA. 


49 


profound  f^lillnoss  rcij^nod.  IIi«rliii(lu  raised  herself  on  her 
jiillosv,  :ind  looUcjcl  around  licr.  The  scene  was  weird  and 
ylioslly,  and  wlie  presently  heeanuj  aware  that  she  was  ut- 
terly alone.  She  listenetl  intentl}',  —  not  the  eeho  of  a 
breath  from  the  next  room.  Her  heart  leaped  ;  lor  a  mo- 
ment its  pulsations  perplexed  her ;  another,  and  she  had 
moved  noiselessly  from  her  bed  and  crossed  the  roonj. 
She  ghmeed  into  that  adjoininjj;.  That  too  was  Hooded  in 
moonlight,  which  shone  full  ui)()n  \\\c.  bed.  Yes,  it  was 
empty.  Dona  Fcli/.  had  doul)tless  been  called  to  some 
sick  person  ;  she  had  left  Ilerlinda  sleeiiuig,  thinking  that 
at  that  hour  of  the  night  there  could  be  no  danger  in 
leaving  her  for  a  brief  half  hour  alone. 

In  an  instant  these  thoughts  darted  through  Ilerlinda'a 
mind,  followed  by  a  project  that  of  late  she  had  much 
dwelt  ui)on,  but  had  believed  inii)ossiblc  of  realization. 
"With  trembling  hands  she  took  from  her  wardn^be  a  dress 
of  some  soft  dark  stulf,  and  a  black  and  gra}-  reboso,  and 
put  them  on.  Without  pausing  a  moment  for  thought  that 
might  deter  her,  she  glidcid  from  the  room,  crossed  tho 
corridor,  and  descended  the  stairs,  taking  the  same  direc- 
tion in  which  Ashley  had  gone  to  his  death.  She  paused 
too  at  the  gate,  to  do  as  he  had  done  ;  for  she  touched  the 
sleeping  I'edro  lightly  upon  the  shoulder,  at  the  same 
instant  uttering  his  name. 

The  man  started  from  his  sleep  alfrighted,  —  too  much 
adVighted  to  cr}'  out ;  for  like  most  haciendas,  T'res  ller- 
manos  had  its  ghost.  From  time  to  time  the  apparition  of 
a  weeping  woman  was  seen  by  those  about  to  die.  Had 
she  come  to  him  now?  His  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of 
his  mouth  ;  he  shook  in  every  limb.  The  moonlight  shone 
I'lill  in  the  court,  but  the  archway  was  in  shade :  who  or 
what  was  this  that  stood  beside  him,  extending  a  white 
arm  from  its  dark  robes,  and  touching  him  with  one  slight 
fmgcr?  A  repetition  of  his  name  restored  him  to  his 
senses,  and  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  muttering,  "  Selorita ! 
]\Iy  Sciiorita,  for  God's  sake  wli}'  are  you  here  ?  You  will 
be  seen  !     You  will  be  recognizcid  !  " 

"  '  In  the  night  all  cats  are  gray,'"  she  answered,  with 
one  of  those  proverbs  as  natural  to  the  lips  of  a  Mexican 
as  tho  breath  the}-  draw.  "  No  one  would  distinguish  mo 
in  this  light  from  any  of  the  servants ;  but  still  my  words 

4 


!* 


'.     W 


50 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


must  be  biiof,  for  my  absence  from  my  room  may  be  dis- 
covered. Pedro,  I  have  a  work  to  do ;  it  has  been  in  my 
mind  all  this  time.    You,  you  can  help  mc  !  " 

She  clasped  her  hands ;  he  thought  she  looked  at  the 
door,  and  the  idea  darted  into  his  mind  that  she  con- 
templated escape,  or  that  she  had  a  mad  desire  to  throw 
herself  upon  her  lover's  grave  and  die  there. 

"Nina!  Nina,  of  my  life!  "  he  said  imploringl}',  using 
the  form  of  address  one  might  employ  to  a  child,  or  some 
dearlj'  loved  elder,  still  dependent.  "  Go  back  to  your 
chamber,  I  beg  and  implore  1  How  can  I  do  anytliing  for 
3'ou  ?     How  can  Pedro,  so  worthless,  so  vile,  do  anything  ?  " 

The  adjectives  he  appHed  to  himself  ere  sincere  enough, 
for  Pedro  had  never  ceased  to  reproach  himself  for  his  share 
in  the  tragedy  which,  in  spite  of  Dona  Isabel's  words,  he 
had  never  reall}^  ceased  to  believe  concerned  Herlinda, 
though  he  had  striven  for  his  own  peace  of  mind,  as  well 
as  in  loyalty  to  the  Garcias,  to  affect  a  contrary  opinion, 
until  this  moment,  when  his  young  mistress's  appearance 
and  appeal  rendered  self-deception  no  longer  possible. 
Again  and  again  lie  reiterated,  "  What  can  the  miserable 
Pedro  do  for  you  ?  " 

Apparently  with  an  instinct  of  concealment,  Herlinda 
had  crouclied  upon  the  stones,  and  as  tlie  man  stood  before 
her  she  raised  her  face  and  gazed  at  him  with  her  dark 
eyes.  How  large  they  looked  in  the  uncertain  light !  how 
tlie  young  face  quivered  and  was  convulsed,  as  her  lips 
))arted  !  Pedro,  with  an  inward  shrinking,  expected  her  to 
demand  of  him  the  name  of  Ashley's  murderer ;  but  the 
thought  of  vengeance,  if  it  ever  crossed  her  mind,  was  far 
from  it  at  that  moment.  "  Yes,  yes,  there  is  perhaps 
something  you  can  do  for  me,"  she  said.  "  Men  are  able 
to  do  so  much,  while  we  poor  women  can  onl}'  fold  our 
hands,  and  wait  and  suffer.  I  thought  differcntl}'  once, 
though.  John  used  to  laugh  at  what  he  called  our  idle 
ways;  he  said  women  wcr^  made  to  act  as  well  as  men. 
lint  what  can  I  do?  What  could  any  woman  do  in  my 
place?     Nothing!  nothing!  nothing!" 

Pedro  was  silent.  He  knew  well  how  powerless,  what 
a  mere  chattel  or  toy,  was  a  young  woman  of  his  people. 
It  seemed,  too,  quite  natural  and  right  to  him.  In  this 
particular  case  the  mother  was  acting  with  incompar- 


able g 
lie  piti 
lu'r  to 
chanici 
sorvanl 
"No 
"  even 
thing  ft 
Just  a 
feet  sue 
I  was  1 
haired  '. 
fiilse,  V 
hciieve  i 
offsj)rinj 
submit. 
Tiiere  is 
Slie  s| 
municate 
slie  couL 
demn  he 
<laughter 
"  What 
Herlin 
offer  of  d 
she  said 
Years  he 
non^s  of  i 
me,  it  wi 
eager  wh 
mind  how 
iK're,  whe 
tions,  wli( 
fere.     Ye; 
Podfo,  pn 
it.     Prom 

I*edro 
"ot  be  the- 
doors,  left 
h.'ilf-growi 
loitered  in 
Isabel  waj 


CHATA   AND  CITINTTA. 


51 


able  severity,  hut  she  was  within  her  right.  Even  while 
lie  pitied  the  child,  it  did  not  enter  bis  mind  to  counsel 
licr  to  combat  her  motlicr's  will.  He  only  repeated  me- 
dianicalh',  "  What  can  I  do?  What  would  you  have  your 
servant  do?" 

"  Not  so  hard  a  thing,"  she  said  with  a  sob  in  her  voice  ; 
"  even  a  woman,  had  I  one  for  my  friend,  could  do  this 
thing  for  me  ;  and  yet  it  is  all  I  have  to  ask  in  the  world. 
Just  a  little  pltj'^  for  my  child,  Pedro !  "  She  rose  to  her 
feet  suddenly,  and  spoke  rapidl}'.  "Pedro,  they  say  tiuit 
I  was  not  truly  married ;  they  say  my  beautiful,  golden- 
haired  husband,  my  angel  of  light,  deceived  me.  It  is 
false,  Pedro !  all  false !  But  they  sa}-  the  world  will  not 
believe  me,  and  so  I  must  go  awa}' ;  and  my  child,  like  an 
offspring  of  shame,  must  be  born  in  secret,  and  I  must 
submit.  It  will  be  taken  from  me,  and  I  must  submit. 
There  is  no  help !  no  help  !  " 

She  spoke  in  a  kind  of  frenzy,  and  her  excitement  com- 
municated itself  to  Pedro.  He  understood,  far  better  than 
she  could,  the  motives  of  Dona  Isabel ;  he  did  not  con- 
demn her,  neither  did  he  attempt  to  justify  her  to  her 
daughter.  He  onl}^  muttered  again  in  his  stoical  way, 
''What  can  I  do?" 

Herlinda  accepted  the  words  as  they  were  meant,  as  an 
offer  of  devotion,  of  service.  "  Pedro,  you  can  do  much," 
slie  said  rapidly.  "  You  can  watch  over  my  child. 
Years  hence,  when  I  come  to  ask  it,  you  can  give  me 
news  of  it.  Ah,  they  think  when  they  take  my  child  from 
me,  it  will  be  as  dead  to  me  ;  but  Pedro,"  she  added  in  an 
eager  whisper,  "  I  have  found  what  they  will  do.  Never 
mind  how  I  learned  it.  They  will  bring  my  child  here,  — • 
here,  where  onl}'  the  peasants  will  ask  a  few  useless  ques- 
tions, where  there  will  be  no  person  of  influence  to  inter- 
fere. Yes,  it  will  be  brought  here,  and — forgotten!  P)Ut 
Pcdi'o,  promise  me  3'ou  will  watch  for  it,  you  will  protect 
it.     Promise  !  promise  !  promise  !  " 

Pedro  was  startled,  but  not  incredulous.  This  would 
not  be  the  first  child  that  had  been  found  at  the  hacienda 
doors,  left  to  the  charity  of  the  seiioras ;  more  than  one 
halt-grown  boj',  of  whose  parents  no  one  knew  anything, 
loitered  in  the  courts,  and  even  the  maid  who  served  Dona 
Isabel  was  a  foundling  of  this  class. 


52 


C II ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


V 


lirll 


*'  But  liow  shall  I  know,"  he  stammered,  after  he  had 
satisfied  her  witli  the  promise  she  desired.  "  True  enough, 
it  may  be  brought  here,  but  how  shall  I  know?  " 

Herlinda  scarcely  heeded  his  words.  She  was  bus}'  in 
taking  a  small  reliquary  from  her  neck.  It  was  square, 
made  of  pale  blue  silk,  and  in  no  way  remarkable.  "  See, 
I  will  put  this  around  its  neck,"  she  said.  "  No  one  will 
dare  remove  a  reliquar}'.  There  is  a  bit  of  the  true  cross 
in  it.  It  will  keep  evil  awa}' ;  it  will  bring  good  fortune. 
The  first  day  I  wore  it  I  met  John ;  and  "  she  added,  ner- 
vously fingering  the  jewel  at  her  car,  "  take  this,  Pedro. 
The  other  I  will  put  in  the  reliquary,  with  a  prayer  to  San 
Federigo.  When  you  see  the  strange  child  that  will  come 
here,  look  for  these  signs,-  and  as  you  hope  for  mercy 
hereafter,  guard  the  child  that  bears  them." 

She  had  placed  in  his  hand  a  flat  eariing  of  quaint  fila- 
gree work,  one  of  the  marvels  of  rude  and  almost  barbaric 
workmanship  that  the  untaught  goldsmiths  of  the  hacien- 
das produce.  Pedro  would  have  returned  it  to  her,  swear- 
ing by  all  he  held  sacred  to  do  her  will ;  but  some  sound 
had  startled  her.  She  slipped  the  reliquary  into  her 
bosom,  drew  her  scarf  around  her,  and  glided  away.  He 
saw  her  pass  the  small  doorway  like  a  spectre.  He  could 
scarcely  believe  that  she  had  been  there  at  all,  that  she 
had  actually  spoken  to  him.  He  crossed  himself  as  he 
lost  sight  of  her,  and  looked  in  a  dazed  way  at  the  earring 
in  his  palm. 

"Would  to  God,"  he  muttered,  *' I  had  told  Doiia 
Isabel  all  the  truth,  as  1  meant  to,  when  I  went  to  her 
from  the  dead  man's  side.  Why  did  I  not  tell  her  plainly 
I  knew  her  daughter  Herlinda  to  be  the  woman  Ashley 
had  come  here  to  meet,  —  would  she  have  dared  then  to 
say  she  was  not  his  wife?  Fool  that  I  was!  I  myself 
doubted.  What,  doubt  that  sweet  angel!  Beast!  im- 
becile ! "  and  Pedro  flung  his  striped  blanket  from  him 
with  a  gesture  of  disgust.  "And  now,  what  would  be 
the  use,  though  I  should  trumpet  abroad  tlie  whole  matter? 
No,  my  hour  has  passed.  Dona  Isabel  must  work  her 
will;  I  will  not  fail  her,  for  only  by  being  true  can  I 
serve  her  daughter.  But  who  knows?  —  Herlinda  may 
be  deceived  ;  her  fears  may  have  turned  her  brain.  Yet 
all  the  same  I  will  keep  this  token ;  "   and   he  looked 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


53 


as  busy  in 
as  square, 
le.     "  See, 
\o  one  will 
true  cross 
od  fortune, 
adcled,  ner- 
this,  Pedro, 
ayer  to  San 
it  will  come 
J  for  mercy 

'  quaint  fila- 
lost  barbaric 
I  the  liacien- 
3  her,  swear- 
some  sound 
iry  into  her 
d  away.    He 
e.    He  could 
all,  that  she 
limself  as  he 
itt  the  earring 

d  told  Dona 
went  to  her 
ell  her  plainly 
roman  Ashley 
dared  then  to 
rasl   I  myself 
Beast!  im- 
'ket  from  him 
vhat  would  be 
whole  matter? 
imst  work  her 
ng  true  can  1 
Herlinda  may 
er  brain.    Yet 
uid  he  looked 


at  the  earring  reverently,  then  placed  it  in  his  wallet. 
Two  da3's  later,  when  she  left  Trcs  Ilermanos  and  he  saw 
its  fellow  in  Herlinda's  ear,  he  caught  the  momentary 
glance  in  her  dark  ej'e,  and  stood  transfixed. 

Pedro  Gomez  hitherto  had  been  a  careless,  idle,  rollick- 
hig  fellow  ;  thenceforward  he  became  grave,  watchful,  and 
crafty,  —  the  change  which,  had  there  been  keen  observers 
near,  all  might  have  noticed  in  the  outward  man  being  as 
notliiug  to  that  from  the  specious  fellow  whom  Ashley  had 
found  it  an  easy  matter  to  bribe,  to  the  conscience-stricken 
man  who  stood  at  the  gates  of  the  great  hacienda  of  the 
Garcias,  cognisant  of  its  conflicting  interests,  and  sworn 
to  guard  them ;  his  crafty  mind  inclining  to  Dona  Isabel 
and  the  cause  she  represented,  his  heart  yearning  over  the 
erring  daughter. 


'^iil; 


VIII. 


■  'ill 


Tiiounn  Hcrlinda  Garcia  had  forced  a  smile  to  her  lips 
as  she  left,  perhaps  forever,  the  house  where  she  was 
born,  as  the  carriage  was  driven  rapidly  across  the  fertile 
vallc}'  her  ejes  reirnined  fixed  witli  melancholy',  even  des- 
pairing, intensitj'  pon  the  walls  wherein  she  had  learned 
in  her  brief  experience  of  life  much  that  combines  to 
make  up  the  sum  of  woman's  wretchedness. 

Hcrlinda  had  ever  been  an  imaginative  child,  even  before 
she  had  attained  the  ago  of  seven  3'ears,  at  which  she  had 
been  taught  to  consider  herself  a  reasoning,  responsible 
being ;  she  had  .been  conscious  of  vague  feelings  and 
desires,  which  had  in  a  measure  separated  her  from  her 
famil}'^  and  the  people  who  surrounded  her,  and  had  set 
her  in  sullen  opposition  to  the  aimless  and  inane  occupa- 
tions which  served  to  while  away  davs  that  her  eager 
nature  longed  to  fill  with  action.  Though  she  had  not  been 
conscious  of  any  especial  direction  into  which  she  would 
have  thrown  her  energies,  she  had  been  most  keenly  con- 
scious that  she  possessed  them,  and  early  rebelled  against 
the  petty  tasks  that  curbed  and  strove  to  stille  them, — 
such  tasks  a?  the  embroidering  of  capes  and  stoles,  or  draw- 
ing of  threads  from  fine  linen,  to  bo  replaced  with  intricate 
stitches  of  needle- work,  to  form  the  decoration  of  altar 
cloths,  or  the  garments  of  the  waxen  Lady  of  Sorrows 
above  the  altar  in  the  chapel,  or  of  the  Virgin  of  Guada- 
lui)e  in  the  great  sala,  —  as  she  did  also  against  the  endless 
repetition  of  prayers,  for  which  she  needlessly  turned  the 
leaves  of  her  well-thumbed  breviar3\  How  she  had 
longed  for  freedom  to  run  with  the  peasant  children  over 
the  fields  !  How  man}'  hours  she  had  hung  over  the  iron 
railing  of  her  mother's  balcou}',  and  gazed  upon  the  far 
liills,  and  wondered  what  sort  of  world  lay  in  the  l)lue 
beyond  tliom. 

Sometimes  Hcrlinda  had  attempted  to  talk  to  Vicente 
Gonzales  of  these  things  when  lie  came  from  the  city, 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


55 


0  her  lips 
she  was 

,he  fertile 
even  dos- 
id  learned 
Qibines  to 

ven  before 
ch  she  had 
•csponsible 
elings  and 
.  from  her 
lid  had  set 
ne  occupa- 
;  her  eager 
ad  not  been 

1  she  would 
keenly  con- 
jllcd  against 
illc  tliem, — 
lies,  or  draw- 
vith  intricate 
tion  of  altar 
r  of  Sorrows 
in  of  Guada- 
st  tiie  endless 
ly  turned  the 
low   she  had 
chiUlrcu  over 

over  the  iron 
I  upon  the  far 
y  in  the  blue 


privileged  as  the  son  of  an  old  friend,  and  the  scion  of  a 
wealthy  and  influential  family,  to  form  an  early  intimacy 
with  the  pretty  child,  whom  later  he  would  meet  but  in 
her  mother's  presence  with  all  the  restrictions  of  Spanish 
etiquette.  She  had  always  liked  the  proud,  handsome 
boy,  but  he  was  far  slower  in  mental  development  than 
she,  and  could  only  laugh  at  her  fancies.  And  so  as  they 
j"ew  older,  and  he  in  secret  grew  more  fond,  she  had 
!  ecomc  indilfcrent,  restlessly  longing  for  an  expansion 
of  her  contracted  and  aimless  existence,  yet  finding  ro 
[)r()uiise  in  the  prospects  of  war  and  political  strife  which 
l)ogan  to  allure  Gonzales,  and  in  which  she  could  not 
hope  to  take  part,  —  and  to  sit  a  spectator  was  not  in  the 
nature  of  Herlinda.  Her  mother  dehghted  to  watch  the 
fray,  to  counsel  and  direct.  It  was  perhaps  this  trait  in 
Doiia  Isabel's  character  that,  while  it  had  awakened  her 
daughter's  admiration,  had  chafed  and  fretted  her,  check- 
ing the  natural  expression  of  her  livel}'  and  energetic 
spirit,  even  as  the  cold  and  stately  dignity  of  her  man- 
ner repressed  the  affections  which  lay  ardent  within  her, 
waiting  but  the  magnetic  touch  of  a  responsive  nature. 

Such  an  one  had  not  been  found  within  her  home  ;  all 
were  cold,  preoccupied,  absorbed  in  the  ever^'-day  affairs 
of  life.  Sometimes.,  when  by  chance  Herlinda  had  caught 
n  glimpse  of  the  repressed  inner  nature  of  Dona  Feliz,  the 
mother  of  the  administrador,  she  had  felt  for  a  moment 
drawn  toward  her;  but  although  all  her  life  she  had  lived 
beneath  the  same  roof  with  her,  there  had  occurred  no 
special  circumstance  to  draw  them  into  intimacj',  or  in 
any  way  lessen  the  barrier  that  difference  in  age  and 
position  raised  between  them,  — for  perhaps  in  no  part  of 
the  world  are  the  subtle  differences  of  caste  so  clearly 
recognized  and  so  closely  observed  as  in  those  little 
worlds,  the  Mexican  haciendas  de  campo. 

Sometimes,  in  her  unhappiest  moods,  when  her  unrest 
had  become  actual  pain  and  resolved  its(^lf  into  a  vague 
Init  real  feeling  of  grief,  Herlinda  had  thought  of  her 
lather,  in  \\ov  heart  striving  to  idealize  what  was  but  an 
uncertain  memory  of  an  elderly,  formal-mannered  man, 
hundiiome  according  to  the  type  of  his  race,  —  sharp-feat- 
ured, eagle-eyed,  but  small  of  stature,  with  small  ellemin- 
ate  hands  which  Herlinda  could  remcaiber  bhe  used  to  kiss, 


'4 


5C 


CHATA  AND   CIIINITA. 


l'y^\\\ 


%\ 


in  the  respectful  salutation  with  which  she  had  been 
tau<2;ht  to  greet  him.  lie  had  died  wlien  Herlinda  was 
eiglit  years  old,  just  after  the  second  dauglitcr,  Carmen, 
was  born ;  and  tliough  Dona  Isabel  seldom  mentioned 
him,  it  was  understood  that  slie  had  loved  him  deep!}', 
and  for  his  sake  lived  the  life  of  semi-isolation  which  her 
age,  her  bcaut}^  her  talents,  and  wealth  seemed  to  com- 
bine to  render  an  unnatural  clioicc.  As  she  grew  older, 
Herlinda  began  to  wonder,  and  sometimes  repine,  at 
this  utter  separation  from  the  world  of  which  in  a  Inir- 
ried  visit  to  tlie  city  of  Guanapila  she  had  once  caught  a 
glimi)se.  Especially  was  this  the  case  after  the  arrival  of 
Mademoiselle  La  Croix,  who  was  lost  in  wonder  that  any 
one  should  voluntarily  resign  lierself  to  exile  even  in  so 
lovely  a  spot ;  and  although  she  opened  for  Herlinda  a 
new  world  in  tlie  studies  to  which  she  directed  her,  they 
had  been  rather  of  an  imaginative  than  a  logical  kind,  and 
stimulated  those  ti  e.ulties  which  should  rather  have  been 
repressed,  while  personally  tlie  governess  had  answered 
no  need  in  the  frank  yet  repressed  and  struggling  nature 
of  her  pupil. 

These  had  been  the  conditions  under  which  Herlinda  had 
met  John  Ashlev,  and  we  know  with  what  result.  As  the 
tiny  stream  rushes  into  the  river  and  is  carried  away  by 
its  force,  tlieir  waters  mingling  indistinguishablj',  so  the 
mind,  the  very  soul  of  Herlinda  had  felt  tlie  power  of 
that  perfect  sympathy  which,  in  the  few  short  words 
uttered  in  the  pauses  of  a  dance  (for  they  had  first  met 
at  Guanapila)  and  the  expressive  glances  of  his  eyes,  she 
believed  herself  to  have  found  in  the  mind  and  heart  of 
the  alien, — a  man  in  her  mother's  emplo}',  one  whom  ordi- 
narily she  would  have  treated  with  perfect  politeness,  but 
would  have  thought  of  as  set  as  far  ai)art  from  her  own  life 
as  though  they  were  beings  of  a  separate  order  of  crea- 
tion. The  fact  that  he  was  a  handsome  young  man  would 
primarily  have  had  no  effect  upon  Herlinda,  though  un- 
doubtedly it  served  to  render  to  her  mind  more  natural 
and  delightful  the  asccndcnc}'  whicrh,  in  spite  of  all  ob- 
stacles, he  rapidly  gained  over  her  entire  nature. 

Needless  is  it  for  us  to  analyze  the  mind  and  character 
of  Ashley.  It  is  certain  he  lov*'d  Herlinda  passionately, 
and  in  the  opposition  of  Dona  Isabel  to  his  suit  saw  but 


CHATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


irrational  prejudice  and  mcdioeval  tyranny.  His  entire 
freedom  from  sordid  motives,  and  his  fears  of  tlie  con- 
sequences of  delay,  —  knowing  as  he  did  of  the  desired 
engagement  between  Herlinda  and  the  young  Vicente  Gon- 
zales,— justified  to  his  mind  a  course  which  the  canons  of 
honor  would  have  forbidden,  but  of  the  legality  of  which 
he  certainly  had  had  no  question,  the  intricacies  and 
delicacies  of  marriage  laws  having  engaged  no  share  in  the 
attention  of  a  somewhat  adventurous  youth. 

This  very  heedlessness  and  activity  of  John  Ashley's 
nature  had  formed  an  especial  charm  to  Herlinda ;  she 
would  have  shrunk  from  and  pondered  over  a  more  cau- 
tious nature,  —  perhaps  would  have  ended  in  loving,  but 
she  never  would  have  cast  aside  all  the  traditions  of  her 
youth.  All  her  life  she  had  been  like  a  bird  in  the  cage. 
For  a  brief  space  she  had  seen  the  wide  expanse  of  the 
sk}'  opening  above  her,  she  had  fluttered  upward ;  but 
death  had  struck  her  down  to  darkness,  —  death,  which 
had  pierced  the  strong  and  loving  one  who  would  have 
guided  and  protected  her !  She  moaned,  and  turned  her 
face  to  the  corner  of  the  carriage.  An  arm  stole  around 
her:  it  was  that  of  Dona  Feliz. 


IX. 


The  pale  dawn,  creeping  over  the  hills  behind  which 
the  sun  was  still  hidden,  revealing  to  the  accustomed  sight 
of  Dofia  Feliz  a  narrow,  irregular  street  of  adobe  hovels ; 
a  tiny  church  with  a  square  tower,  where  the  swallows 
were  sleepily  chirping ;  around  and  behind,  stray  trees 
and  patches  of  gardens ;  upon  the  waste  of  sand,  where 
cacti  and  dusty  sagebrush  grew,  up  to  the  hills  where  the 
pines  began,  a  road  of  yellow  sand,  winding  like  a  sinuous 
sei-pent  over  all ;  two  or  three  early  loiterers,  with  e3'cs 
turned  toward  the  diligence,  which  thus  early  was  niak 
ing  its  way  from  the  night's  resting  place  toward  the  dis- 
tant city,  —  such  was  the  scene  upon  which  the  trusted 
servant  and  friend  of  the  Garcias  looked  on  a  morning 
early  in  November.  She  was  standing  in  the  low  gateway 
that  gave  entrance  to  a  garden  overgrown  with  weeds  and 
vines.  These  vines  spread  from  the  fig  and  orange  trees, 
and  half  covered  the  ruinous  walls  of  a  house  which  had 
once,  where  the  surroundings  were  so  humble,  ranked  as 
an  elegant  mansion,  and  which  indeed  had  served  in 
years  gone  by  as  a  temporary  retreat,  small  but  attractive, 
for  such  of  the  family  of  Garcia  as  desired  a  few  days'  re- 
tirement from  their  accustomed  pursuits.  Here  the  ladies 
had  wandered  amid  the  flowers,  and  sat  under  the  arbors 
where  the  purple  grapes  clustered,  and  honeysuckle  and 
jessamine  mingled  their  rich  odors ;  and  the  gentlemen 
had  smoked  their  cigarettes  in  luxurious  case,  or  sallied 
forth  to  shoot  the  golden  plover  in  its  season,  or  hunt  the 
deer  amid  the  surrounding  hills.  This  had  in  fact  been 
a  quinta^  or  pleasure  resort,  but  since  the  days  of  revolu- 
tions and  bandits  it  had  been  utterly  abandoned  to  the  rats 
and  owls,  or  to  the  nominal  care  of  the  ragged  brood  who 
huddled  togotlior  in  the  half-ruinons  kitchen  ;  and  here  the 
romance  of  Ilerlinda's  life  had  been  enacted. 

When   Dona  Isabel   Garcia   had  desired   to  send  her 
daughter  fiom  the  hacienda  of  Tres  Ueruuuuj.s,  in  order  to 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


59 


h 


remove  her  from  the  neighborhood  of  Ashley  and  give  her 
tlie  benefit  of  cliango,  she  had  at  first  been  sadly  perplexed 
where  to  send  her.  Should  she  go  to  her  relatives  in  the 
city,  it  was  possible  that  her  dejected  mien  and  unguarded 
words  might  give  them  a  suspicion  of  the  truth,  —  and 
Doiia  Isabel  detested  gossip,  particularly  family  gossip ; 
besides,  she  looked  upon  llerlinda's  marriage  with  Vicente 
Gonzales  as  certain,  and  dreaded  lest  the  faintest  rumor 
of  the  young  girl's  attachment  should  reach  his  ears,  and 
awaken  in  him  the  slumbering  demon  of  jealousy,  — 
which,  though  it  might  rouse  the  young  soldier  as  a 
lover  to  fresh  ardor  onl}',  might  incite  him  later  as  her 
husband  to  a  tyranny  which  the  mind  of  Heriinda  was 
ill  disposed  to  bear.  In  this  dilem.iia  the  house  at  Las 
Parras  had  occurred  to  her.  Once  in  her  own  girlhood 
she  had  visited  the  place,  and  she  remembered  it  as  a 
most  charming  sylvan  retreat ;  and  although  she  knew  it 
to  be  situated  in  the  outskirts  of  a  small  hamlet  scarce 
worthy  of  the  name  of  village,  and  that  it  had  been  aban- 
doned for  years,  its  isolation  and  abandonment  at  that 
nmcture  precisely  constituted  its  attractions  ;  and  thither, 
under  the  care  of  Don  Rafael  the  administrador  and  of 
IMademoiselle  La  Croix,  Ilerlinda  had  been  sent.  Precau- 
tions had  been  taken  to  balUe  the  inquiries  of  Ashley  as 
to  their  route  and  destination,  which,  as  has  been  said,  an 
accident  revealed  to  him  just  when  his  mind  was  most 
strongly  excited  by  the  mystery  which  his  disposition  and 
training,  as  well  as  his  love,  led  him  passionately  to  re- 
sent. Hither,  too,  when  a  new  and  still  more  important 
need  had  risen,  Ilerlinda  had  been  brought. 

Doiia  Isabel  had  been  unaffectedly  shocked,  when, 
after  a  tortuous  journey  by  diligence  in  order  to  evade 
conjecture  as  to  their  destination,  they  had  at  nightfall 
arrived  at  this  deserted  mansion,  and  had  passed  through 
the  narrow  door-wa}'  set  in  the  high  stone-wall  that  sur- 
rounded the  garden,  and  had  looked  upon  its  tangled 
masses  of  half  tropic  vegetation,  and  entered  the  ruin,  to 
find  that  only  throe  or  four  small  rooms  opening  upon  the 
vineyard  were  habitable.  But  in  tliese  few  rooms  they 
and  their  secret  were  safe,  — safe  as  if  buried  in  the  caves 
of  the  earth.  Ilerlinda  looked  around  her  for  familiar 
faces,  but  all  she  saw  were  strange  to  her.     Doiia  Isabel 


CO 


CI/ATA   AND  CIIINITA, 


had  guarded  against  recognition  of  Ilcrlinda,  and  oven  her 
own  identity  wus  disguised.  To  tlio  women  and  the  old 
man  who  performed  the  worlc  of  tiie  kitelien  and  went  the 
necessary  errands,  but  who  were  rigidly  excluded  from  the 
private  rooms,  she  was  known  only  as  a  friend  of  Dona 
Isabel  Garcia,  —  one  Dona  Carlota,  whoso  family  name 
awoke  no  interest  or  inquiry. 

After  satisfying  her  hungry  anxiety  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  servants,  and  finding  them  strangers,  Ilerliuda 
made  no  further  effort  to  encounter  them.  She  was  very 
ill  after  arrival,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  attendants  — 
dull,  apathetic  creatures — ever  saw  her  face  plainly  from 
the  day  she  entered  the  house  until  that  of  which  wo 
speak,  when  Dona  Feliz  stood  in  the  low  doorway  in  tho 
garden  wall,  and  looked  toward  the  diligence  which 
appeared  indistinctly,  a  moving  monster  in  the  distance. 
She  glanced  back  occasionally,  half  impatiently,  half  sor- 
rowfully, to  tho  house.  Through  the  open  door  of  it 
presently  glided  Dona  Isabel.  Her  head  was  bent,  her 
olive  cheeks  were  deadl}'  pale,  and  she  shivered  as  with 
cold  as  she  stepped  out  into  tho  dusk  of  early  morning, 
— or  rather  late  night,  for  it  was  an  hour  when  not  a 
creature  around  the  place  was  stirring,  not  even  tho  birds  ; 
a  wide-eyed  cat  stared  at  her  as  she  passed  down  tho  nar- 
row walk,  and  she  shrank  oven  from  its  gaze.  She  held 
something  under  her  black  reboso,  which  upon  reaching 
Feliz  she  passed  to  her  with  averted  eyes. 

"Take  it,"  she  said;  "Ilcrlinda  is  asleep.  We  trust 
you,  Feliz.  1  in  my  shame,  she  in  her  despair,  wo  give 
this  child  to  you,  never  to  ask  it  of  you  again,  never  to 
know  whether  it  lives  or  dies." 

The  passionless  composure  with  which  she  said  these 
words,  the  absolute  freedom  from  any  tone  of  vindictivc- 
ness,  gave  to  them  the  accent  of  perfect  trust.  There  was 
nothing  of  cruclt}-,  nothing  of  hesitancy  in  the  tone  or 
words  or  manner  with  which  Doiia  Isabel  Garcia  laid  in  the 
arms  of  Feliz  a  new-born  sleeping  infant,  and  thus  separ- 
ated herself  and  her  family  from  the  fate  which  with  abso- 
lute confidence  she  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  statuesque, 
cold-faced  woman  who  stood  there   to  receive   it. 

But  with  the  child  in  her  arms  a  great  change  swept 
over  the  face  of  Feliz.     One  could  not  have  told  at  a 


(1 


CITATA   AND   CIUNITA. 


61 


glance  whether  it  was  loathing  and  resentment,  or  an 
agony  of  pily,  that  convulsed  her  features,  or  ail  combined. 
"My  words  are  all  said,"  she  murmured.  "  llerliiidji 
is,  you  say,  resigned.  Oh,  Dona  Isabel,  Dofia  Isabel,  you 
will  rue  this  hour  !  I  do  your  will ;  do  not  you  blame  or 
accuse  me  in  the  future ! " 

The  diligence  had  driven  through  the  village.  To  the 
astonishment  of  the  idlers  it  stopped  before  the  wall  that 
circled  the  half-ruined  quinta  ;  a  woman  stepped  through 
the  doorway,  and  was  helped  to  her  seat.  !She  had  evi- 
d'jntly  been  expected  by  the  driver.  They  would  have 
been  still  more  surprised  had  they  al.^o  seen  the  lady  who 
waved  a  white  hand  at  parting,  and  who  turned  back  into 
the  garden  with  a  deep-drawn  sigh  of  relief,  followed  by 
a  groan  that  seemed  to  rend  and  distort  the  lips  through 
which  it  came,  and  which  she  vainly  strove  to  keep  from 
trembling  as  she  entered  the  house,  and  answered  the  call 
of  her  awakened  daughter. 

What  can  I  say  of  the  scene  that  followed?  What  that 
will  awaken  pit^',  unstained  with  blame,  for  that  poor 
creature,  so  powerless  in  that  land  that  her  sisters,  in 
others  more  blessed,  perhaps,  find  it  impossible  to  put 
themselves  in  imagination  in  her  place  even  for  a  single 
moment?  But  the  captive  slave  can  writhe  ;  woman,  the 
pampered  to}',  may  weep :  and  where  woman  was  both 
(for  even  in  Mexico  a  new  era  is  dawning  on  her),  she 
could  struggle  and  despair  and  die, — but,  as  Herlinda 
knew  too  well,  in  youth  at  lerst  she  could  not  assert  her 
womanhood,  and  make  or  mar  her  own  destiny.  In  such 
a  land,  in  such  a  cause,  what  champion  would  arise  to 
beat  down  the  iron  laws  of  custom  which  manacled  and 
crushed  her  ?    Not  one ! 


X. 


Onk  (Lay  Pedro  Gomez,  lialf-8lcci>ing  half-mcditatlnp;  as 
he  sat  on  the  stone  beneli  beneath  the  hanging  serpents 
that  garnlsheil  the  vestibule  of  Ties  Ilerinanos,  tliouglit  he 
saw  a  ghost  upon  the  stairs  which  led  from  one  corner  of 
the  wide  court  into  which  he  had  glanced,  to  the  corridor 
of  tlie  upper  Uoor.  An  apparition  of  Dona  Feliz,  he  tliought, 
Iiad  i)assed  up  tliem  ;  and  with  ready  superstition  he  decided 
in  his  own  mind  that  some  evil  had  befallen  her  in  her 
journeyings.  lie  was  so  disturbed  by  this  idea  that  a  few 
moments  later,  as  her  son  Don  Uafael  passed  through  the 
vestibule,  he  ventured  to  stop  him  and  tell  him  what  he 
had  seen ;  whereat  Don  Uafael  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  What,  do  you  not  know,"  he  said,  "  that  my  mother 
has  returned?  Ah,  1  remember  you  were  at  JNIass  this 
morning.  She  came  over  from  the  post-house  on  donke}-- 
back.  A  wondeil'ul  woman  is  my  mother ;  but  she  knew 
we  had  need  of  her,  and  she  came  none  too  soon.  I 
opened  the  door  to  her  myself;  "  and  Don  Uafael  hastened 
to  his  own  apartments,  where  it  was  utiderstood  Dofui 
Uita  his  wife  hourl}'  awaited  the  pangs  of  mother- 
hood, and  left  Pedro  gazing  after  him  in  open-mouthed 
astonishment. 

In  the  tirst  place  nothing  had  been  heard  of  the  proba- 
bility of  the  return  of  Doiia  Feliz ;  in  the  second,  the 
manner  of  her  return  was  unprecedented.  She  was  a 
woman  of  some  consequence  at  tiie  hacienda.  It  was  an 
almost  incredible  thing  that  under  any  circumstances  she 
should  arrive  unexpectedly  at  the  diligence  post,  and  ride 
a  league  upon  a  donkey's  back  like  he  wife  of  a  laborer. 
And  thirdl}'  it  was  a  miracle  that  he  I'edro  had  himself 
gone  to  Mass  that  morning,  —  he  could  not  remember  how 
it  had  come  about,  —  and  that  discovering  his  absence  from 
the  gate  Don  Rafael  had  himself  performed  his  functions, 
and  had  not  soundly  rated  him  for  his  unseasonable  devo- 


L/IATA   AND   CHINITA. 


03 


tion ;   for   Don  Rafael  was  not  a  man  to  confonnr]  the 
claims  of  spiritual  and  secular  duties. 

I'edro  Gome/  did  not  put  the  matter  to  himself  in  pre- 
cisely these  words ;  nevertheless  it  haunted  and  puzzled 
him,  and  kept  him  in  an  unusual  state  of  abstraction,  — 
which  perha[)8  accounted  for  the  fact  that  later  in  the  day, 
just  at  high-noon,  when  the  men  were  afield  and  the  wo- 
men busy  in  their  huts,  and  Pedro  had  ami)lc  leisure  for 
his  siesta,  he  was  suddenly  aroused  by  a  voice  that  seemed 
to  fall  from  the  skies.  Springing  to  his  feet,  he  almost 
struck  against  a  i)owerful  black  horse,  which  was  reined 
in  the  doorway  ;  and  dazzled  by  the  sun,  and  confused  by 
the  unexpected  encounter,  he  gazed  stui)idly  into  tiie  face 
of  a  man  who  was  bending  toward  him,  !»is  broad  hat 
pushed  back  from  a  mass  of  coal-black  haii",  his  wJ«itc 
teeth  exposed  by  the  laugh  that  lighted  up  his  whole  face 
as  he  exclaimed,  — 

''Here,  brother!  here  is  a  good  handful  for  thee!  I 
found  it  on  the  road  yonder.  Cantmbal  my  horse  nearly 
stepped  on  it !  Do  people  in  these  parts  scatter  such 
8C(;(ls  al)0Ut?  I  fancy  the  crop  would  be  but  a  poor  one  if 
they  did,  and  I  saw  a  good  growth  of  little  ones  in  the  vil- 
lage yonder.  Well,  well !  1  have  no  use  for  such  treasure  ; 
I  freely  bestow  it  on  thee,"  —  and  with  a  dexterous  move- 
ment the  stranger  placed  a  bundle,  wrap[)ed  in  a  tattered 
scarf,  in  the  hands  of  the  astounded  Pedro,  and  without 
waiting  question  or  thanks,  whichever  ho  might  have 
expected,  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped  across 
the  dusty  i)lain. 

Twice  that  day  had  Pedro  Gomez  been  left,  as  he 
would  have  said,  open-mouthed.  Almost  unconscious  of 
what  he  did,  ho  stood  there  watching  the  cloud  of  dust  in 
which  t!ie  horse  and  rider  disappeared,  until  he  felt  him- 
self pulled  b}'  the  sleeve,  and  a  sharp  voice  asked,  "In 
the  name  of  the  IJlessed,  Tio,  what  have  you  there? 
Ay,  Holy  Babe !  it  is  a  child  !  " 

A  faint  cry  from  the  bundle  confirmed  these  words ;  a 
tiny  pink  fist  thrust  out  gave  assurance  to  the  eyes. 

Pedro  Gomez,  strong  man  as  he  was,  trembled  in  every 
limb,  and  sank  on  a  seat  breathless ;  but  even  in  his 
agitation  he  resisted  the  efforts  of  his  niece  to  nnwrap 
the  child. 


G4 


C 11  ATA   AND   Cfl/AVTA. 


"  Let  it  be,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  m3'self  look  at  this  gift 
which  the  Saints  have  sent  me." 

With  trembling  hands  he  undid  its  wrappings.  The  babe 
was  crying  lustily ;  red,  grimacing,  struggling,  it  was  still 
a  pretty  child,  —  a  girl  only  a  few  days  old.  Around  its 
neck,  under  the  littlu  dress  of  wiiite  linen,  was  a  silken 
cord.  Pedro  drew  it  forth,  certain  of  what  he  should 
find.  Florencia  pounced  upon  the  blue  reliquary  eagerly. 
"  Let  us  open  it,"  she  said ;  "  perhaps  we  shall  find  some- 
thing to  tell  us  where  the  babe  comes  from,  and  whose 
it  is." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Pedro,  decidedly ;  "  what  should  we 
find  in  it  but  scraps  of  paper  scribbled  with  prayers?  And 
who  would  open  a  reliquary?  " 

Florencia  looked  down  abashed,  for  she  was  a  good 
daughter  of  the  Church,  and  had  been  taught  to  reverence 
such  things. 

"  No,  no,  girl!  run  to  the  village  and  bring  a  woman 
who  can  nourish  this  starving  creature ; "  and  as  the  girl 
flew  to  execute  her  commission,  Pedro  completed  his  ex- 
amination of  the  child. 

It  was  clothed  in  linen,  finer  than  rancheros  use  even  in 
their  gala  attire,  and  the  red  flannel  with  white  spots, 
called  bayeta^  was  of  the  softest  to  be  procured  ;  but  be- 
yond this  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  class  to  which 
the  child  belonged.  Upon  a  slip  of  paper  pinned  to  its 
bosom  was  written  the  name  Maria  Dolores  (  what  more 
natural  than  that  such  a  child  should  bear  the  name,  and 
be  placed  under  the  protection  of  the  Mother  of  Sor- 
rows? ),  and  upon  the  reverse  was  "  Seiiora  Dona  Isabel 
Garcia."  Was  this  to  commend  the  waif  to  the  care  or 
attention  of  that  powerful  lady  ?  Pedro  rather  chose  to 
think  it  a  warning  against  her.  "  What !  place  the  bird 
before  the  hawk  ? "  With  a  grim  smile  he  thrust  the  paper 
into  his  bosom.  Dona  Isabel  was  he  knew  not  where, — 
later  would  be  time  enough  to  think  of  her ;  meanwhile, 
here  wore  all  the  women  and  children,  all  the  old  men, 
and  halt  and  lame  of  the  village,  trooping  up  to  see  this 
waif,  which  in  such  an  unusual  manner  had  been  dropped 
into  the  gate-keeper's  horny  palms. 

Some  of  the  women  laughed  ;  all  the  men  joked  Pedro 
when  they  saw   the   child,    though  a  yellow   nimbus  of 


CHATA  AND   CHIJV/TA. 


65 


gift 

babe 
1  still 
id  its 
illvcn 
Liould 

sorae- 
vbose 


lid  we 
And 

good 
crencc 

voman 
lie  girl 
lis  ex- 

2ven  in 
spots, 
)ut  be- 
wbicb 
to  its 
it  more 
ae,  and 
)f  8or- 
Isabel 
care  or 
lose  to 
lie  bird 
e  paper 
lerc, — 
nwbile, 
d  men, 
ce  this 
Iropped 

I  Pedro 
nbus  of 


liair  around   its  head  and  the  fineness   of  its  clothing 
puzzled  tlicm. 

Pedro  had  hastily  thrust  the  slip  of  paper  into  his 
breast,  scarce  knowing  why  he  did  so ;  for  though  some 
instinct  as  powerful  as  if  it  were  a  living  voice  that  spoke, 
urged  him  to  secrete  the  child,' to  rush  away  with  it  into 
the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains,  rather  than  to  render  it 
to  Dofia  Isabel,  he  did  not  doubt  for  a  moment  that  she 
herself  had  provided  for  its  mysterious  appearance  at  the 
hacienda,  that  it  might  be  received  as  a  waif,  and  cared 
for  by  Doiia  Feliz  as  her  representative. 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind,  and  he  heard 
again  Herlinda's  despairing  cry :  "  Watch  for  my  child ! 
Protect  it !  protect  it ! "  Was  it  possible  that  she  had 
actually  known  that  this  disposition  would  be  made  of  her 
child?  Involuntarily  his  arms  closed  around  it,  and  he 
clasped  it  to  his  broad  breast,  looking  defiantly  around. 

"  Tush,  Pedro,  give  it  to  me !  "  cried  one  stout  matron, 
longing  to  take  the  little  creature  to  her  motherly  breast. 
*'  What  know  you  of  nursing  infants  ?  A  drop  of  mother's 
milk  would  be  more  welcome  to  it  than  all  thy  dry  hugs. 
Ah,  here  comes  the  Scnor  Administrador,"  and  the  crowd 
opened  to  admit  the  passage  of  Don  Rafael,  who  at- 
tracted by  the  commotion  had  hastened  to  the  spot  in 
no  small  anger,  ordering  the  crowd  to  disperse ;  but  he 
was  greeted  with  an  incomprehensible  chorus  of  which 
he  only  hoard  the  one  word  "  baby,"  and  exclaimed 
in  indignation, — 

"And  is  this  the  way  to  show  your  delight,  when  the 
poor  woman  is  at  the  point  of  death  perhaps  ?  Get  you 
gone,  and  it  will  be  time  enough  to  make  this  hubbub 
when  it  comes." 

The  women  burst  out  laughing,  the  men  grinned  from 
ear  to  ear,  and  the  children  fell  into  ecstasies  of  delight. 
Don  Rafael  was  naturally  thinking  of  the  expected  addi- 
tion to  his  own  family,  and  was  enraged  at  what  he  sup- 
posed to  be  a  premature  manifestation  of  sympath}'.  Pedro 
alone  was  grave,  and  stepping  back  pointed  to  the  infant, 
which  was  now  quiet  upon  the  bosom  of  Refugio,  her  vol- 
unteer nurse.  "  This  is  the  child  they  speak  of,  Senor," 
he  said,  and  in  a  few  words  related  the  manner  in  which 
it  had  been  delivered  to  him., 

6 


()6 


ClfATA   AND   CnrNITA. 


If  lie  had  cxpct'cd  to  sec  any  consciousness  or  con- 
fusion upon  the  face  of  Don  Rafael,  he  must  certainly  hav^o 
been  disappointed,  for  there  was  simpl}'  the  frankest  and 
most  perfect  amazement,  as  he  turned  to  tiic  woman  who 
had  stepped  out  a  little  from  the  crowd  and  held  the 
infant  toward  him.  lie  saw  at  a  i>lance  that  it  was  no 
Indian  child, — the  whiteness  of  its  skin,  the  fineness  of  its 
garmenls,  above  all  the  j-ellow  nimbus  of  hair,  already 
curling  in  tiny  rings  around  the  little  head,  struck  him 
with  wonder.  He  crossed  himself,  and  ejaculated  a  pious 
"  Heaven  help  us  !  "  and  touched  the  child's  cheek  with 
the  tip  of  his  finger,  and  turned  its  face  from  its  nurse's 
dusky  breast  in  a  very  genuine  amaze,  which  Pedro 
watched  jealousl}^  The  child  cried  sleepil}',  and  nestled 
under  the  reboso  which  the  woman  drew  over  it,  hushing 
it  in  her  arms,  murmuring  caressingly,  as  her  own  child 
tugged  at  her  skirts, — "There,  there,  sleep  little  one, 
sleep  !  nothing  shall  harm  thee  ;  sleep,    iJhinita,  sleep  !  " 

But  the  little  waif — whose  soft  curls  had  suggested  the 
pet  name — was  not  yet  to  slumber ;  for  at  that  moment 
Dona  Feliz  appeared.  Pedro  noticed  as  she  crossed  the 
courtyard  that  she  was  extremely  pale.  Some  of  the 
women  rushed  toward  her  with  voluble  accounts  of  the 
beauty  of  the  child  and  the  fineness  of  its  garments.  She 
smiled  wearil}',  and  turned  from  them  to  look  at  the  found- 
ling. A  flush  spread  over  her  face  as  she  examined  it,  not 
reddening  but  deepening  its  clear  olive  tint.  She  looked  at 
Rafael  searchingly,  at  Pedro  questioningly.  He  muttered 
over  his  thrice-told  tale.  "  Was  there  no  word,  no  paper  ? " 
she  said,  but  waited  for  no  ansr  er.  "  This  is  no  plebeian 
child,  Rafael.  What  shall  we  do  with  it?  Doiia  Isabel 
is  not  here,  perhaps  will  not  be  here  for  j'ears ! " 

There  was  a  buzz  of  astonishment,  for  this  was  the 
first  intimation  of  Dona  Isabel's  intended  length  of 
absence.  In  the  midst  of  it  Pedro  had  taken  the 
sleeping  child  from  Refugio's  somewhat  reluctant  arm, 
and  wrapping  it  in  a  scarf  taken  from  his  niece's 
shoulders,  had  laid  it  on  the  sheepskin  in  the  alcove  in 
which  he  usually  slept.  This  tacit  ap|)ropriation  perhaps 
settled  the  fate  of  the  infant ;  still  Doiia  Feliz  looked  at 
her  son  uneasil}^  and  he  rubbed  his  hpnds  in  perplexity. 
"  Of  all  the  days  in  the  year  for  a  babe  like  this  to  be  left 


CITATA  AND  CHINITA. 


C7 


con- 
have 

uiul 

>vho 
llic 
LS  no 
of  Us 
L'cady 
:  him 
pions 

Avith 
ursc's 
Pedio 
estled 
ishing 

cliild 
e  one, 
cep  1 
cd  the 
lomont 
,ed  the 
of   the 

of  the 
5.  She 
1  found- 
l  it,  not 
oked  at 
luttercd 
)aper  V  " 
ilebcian 
Isabel 

was  tho 
ngth  of 
ccn  tho 
nt  arm, 
niece's 
Icove  in 

perhaps 
3oked  at 

rplexity. 
o  be  lel't 


here,"  lie  said,  "  when,  the  Saints  willing,  I  am  to  have 
one  of  m}'  own !  No,  no,  mother,  llita  would  never 
consent." 

"Consent  to  what?"  she  answered  almost  testil}-. 
"  What !  Because  this  foundling  chances  to  be  white, 
would  you  have  your  wife  adopt  it  as  her  own,  when  after 
soman}'  years  of  prayer  Heaven  has  sent  her  a  child? 
No,  no,  Rafael,  it  would  l)e  madness ! " 

"  There  is  no  need,"  interpolated  Pedro,  with  a  half- 
savage  eagerness,  and  with  a  look  which,  strangel}'  com- 
bined of  indignation  and  relief,  should  have  struck  dumb 
the  woman  who  thus  to  the  mind  of  the  gate-keeper  was 
revealed  as  the  incarnation  of  deceit, — "there  is  no  need. 
I  will  keep  the  child  ;  '  without  father  or  mother  or  a  dog 
to  bark  for  me,'  who  can  care  for  it  better?  Here  are 
Refugio  and  Teresa  and  Florencia  will  nurse  it  for  me. 
It  will  want  for  nothing."  A  chorus  of  voices  answered  bim  : 
"We  will  all  be  its  mother." — "Give  it  to  me  when  it 
cries,  and  I  will  nurse  it."  —  "The  Saints  will  reward 
thee,  Pedro  !  " — in  the  midst  of  which,  in  answer  to  a  call 
from^above,  Doiia  Fcliz  hastened  away,  saying,  "  Nothing 
could  be  better  for  the  present.  Come,  Rafael,  you  are 
wanted.  I  will  write  to  Dona  Isabel,  Pedro ;  she  will 
doubtless  do  something  when  jou  are  tired  of  it.  There 
is,  for  example,  the  asylum  at  Guanapila." 

Pedro  gazed  after  her  blankly.  \r  spite  of  that  mo- 
mentary Ihish  on  the  lace,  Doiia  Fcliz  had  seemed  as  open 
as  the  day.  He  never  ceased  thereafter  to  look  upon 
her  in  indignant  admiration  and  fear.  Her  slightest 
word  was  like  a  spell  upon  him.  Pedro  was  of  a  mind  to 
propitiate  demons,  rather  than  worship  angels.  There 
was  something  to  his  mind  demoniacal  in  this  Doiia 
Fcliz. 

Half  an  hour  after  she  had  ascended  the  stairs,  and  the 
idlers  had  dispersed  to  chatter  over  this  event,  leaving  the 
new-found  babe  to  its  needed  slumber,  the  woman  who 
acted  the  part  of  midwife  to  Dona  Rita  ran  down  to  the 
gate  where  Pedro  and  his  niece  were  standing,  to  tell  them 
that  there  was  a  babe,  a  girl,  born  to  the  wife  of  the 
administrador.  A  boy,  who  was  lounging  near,  rushed 
otf  to  ring  the  church  bell,  for  this  was  a  long-wished- 
for  event;  but  before  the  .first  stroke   fell   on   the   air, 


GS 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


fii 


the  voice  of  Dona  Fcliz  was  heard  from  the  window: 
"  Silence  !  Silence  !  there  arc  two.     No  bells,  no  bells  !  " 

Two !  Dofia  Rita  still  in  peril !  The  midwife  rushed 
back  to  her  post.  The  door  was  locked,  and  there  was  a 
momentary  delay  in  opening  it.  "Where  have  you  been," 
said  Dona  Feliz  severely,  "almost  a  half  an  hour  away?" 

The  wo..ian  stared  at  her  in  amaze, — the  time  had 
flown  !  Yes,  there  was  the  evidence, — a  second  infant  in 
the  lap  of  Dona  Feliz,  puny,  wizened.  She  dressed  it 
quickly,  asking  no  assistance,  ordering  the  woman  sharply 
to  the  side  of  Dona  Rita. 

"A  thousand  pities,"  said  Don  Rafael  as  he  looked  at 
it,  "  that  it  is  not  a  boy  1 "  Then  as  the  thought  struck 
him,  he  laughed  softlj' :  "Ay,  perhaps  it  is  for  luck,  — 
instead  of  the  three  kings,  who  always  bring  death,  we 
have  the  three  Marias."" 

Doiia  Rita  had  heard  something  of  the  foundling,  and 
smiled  faintl3%  "Thank  God  they  were  not  all  born  of 
one  mother,"  she  said.  "  Ay !  give  me  my  first-born 
here  ;  "  and  with  the  tiny  creature  resting  upon  her  arm, 
and  the  second  presently  lying  near,  Dona  Rita  sank  to 
sleep. 


taken  i 
thnt  wi 
there  c 
and  so 
brojist 
jiasso( 
goldo 
^v'th  w 
wiiich 
Cliiuitf 
Moa 
seldom 
their  in 
with  si 
as  its  I( 
in  two 
eye-brc 
lashes  i 
in   will, 
iiidoion 
bewitci: 
admixtj 


XL 


Though  tbo  three  Marias,  as  Don  Rafael  bad  called 
thorn,  thus  entered  upon  life,  or  at  least  into  that  of  the 
hacienda  of  Tres  Hermanos,  almost  simultaneously',  except 
at  their  baptism  they  found  nothing  in  common.  On  that 
occasion,  a  few  days  later  than  that  of  which  we  have 
written,  tlie  aged  priest,  in  the  name  of  tlie  Trinity, 
severally  blessed  Florentina,  Rosario,  and  Dolores,  — 
each  name  as  was  customary  being  joined  to  that 
of  the  virgin  Queen  of  Heaven ;  but  as  they  left  the 
church  their  paths  separated  as  widely  as  their  stations 
differed.  Dolores,  for  whom  in  vain — were  it  designed  to 
subdue  or  chasten  her — was  chosen  so  sad  a  name,  was 
taken  to  the  dusky  little  hut,  a  few  rods  from  the  gate, 
tl)nt  was,  when  he  chose  to  claim  it,  Pedro's  home,  and 
there  cared  for  by  his  niece  Florencia  with  an  uncertain 
and  8omewh:it  fractious  tenderness,  and  nourished  at  the 
breast  of  whomsoever  happened  to  be  at  hand.  She 
passed  through  babyhood,  losing  her  prettiness  with  the 
golden  tingci  of  her  hair,  and  as  she  grew  older  looking 
wUh  wide-opened  eyes  out  from  a  tangle  of  dark  elf-locks, 
wnich  explained  the  survival  of  her  baby  pet-name 
Chinita,  or  "little  curly  one." 

INIeanwhile  the  two  children  at  the  great  house  were 
seldom  seen  below  stairs,  so  cherished  and  guarded  was 
their  infancy.  Rosario  grew  a  sturdj',  robust  little  creature, 
with  straight  siiining  brown  hair,  drawn  back,  as  soon 
as  its  length  would  permit,  from  her  clear  olive  temples, 
in  two  tight  braids,  leaving  prominent  the  straight  dark 
eye-brows  that  defined  her  low  forehead.  Long  curling 
lashes  shaded  her  large  black  eyes, — true  Mexican  eyes, 
in  which  the  vivacity  of  the  Spaniard  and  the  dreamy 
indolence  of  the  Aztec  mingled,  producing  in  youth  a 
bewitching  expression  perhaps  unequalled  in  any  other 
admixture  of  races.     She  htid,  too,  the   full    cheeks,    of 


i'l: 


70 


CJ/ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


I  \ 


■)  I 


wliicli  lutcr  in  life  the  bones  would  be  proved  too  liii!,li, 
and  the  slightly  prominent  formation  of  jaw,  where  the 
li[)S,  too  full  for  beauty,  closed  over  perfect  teeth  of  daz- 
zling whiteness.  Kosario  was  indeed  a  beauty,  according 
to  the  standard  of  her  country  ;  and  Florentina  so  closely 
followed  the  same  type,  that  she  should  have  been  the 
same,  but  there  was  a  certain  lack  of  vividness  in  her 
coloring  which  beside  her  sister  gave  her  prettiness  the 
appearance  of  a  dimly  reflected  light.  Rosario  was  strong, 
vivid,  dominant ;  Florentina,  sweet,  unobtrusive,  spiiit- 
uelle, — though  the}'  had  no  such  fine  word  at  Ti-es 
Hermanos  for  a  quality  they  recognized,  but  could  not 
classify ;  and  so  it  came  about,  as  time  went  on,  and 
Ivosario  romped  and  i)layed  and  was  scolded  and  kissed, 
reproved  and  admired,  that  Florentina  grew  like  a  fragrant 
plant  in  the  corner  of  a  garden,  which  receives,  it  is  true, 
its  due  meed  of  dew  and  sunshine,  but  is  unnoticed,  either 
for  praise  or  blame,  except  when  some  chance  passer-by 
breathes  its  sweet  perfume,  and  glances  down  in  wonder, 
as  sometimes  strangers  did  at  Florentina.  In  the  family, 
ignoring  the  fine  name  they  had  chosen  for  her,  they 
called  her  little  "  snub-nose," — Cliata, — not  reproachfully, 
but  with  the  caressing  accent  which  renders  the  nick- 
names of  the  Spanish  untranslatable  in  an}'  other  tongue. 
So  time  i)assed  on  until  the  children  were  ibur  years 
old.  The  little  Chinita  made  her  home  at  the  gateway 
rather  than  at  the  hut  with  Florcncia,  who  by  this  time 
had  married  and  had  children  of  her  own,  and  indeed 
felt  no  slight  jealousy  at  the  open  preference  her  uncle 
showed  for  his  foundling.  For  Pedro  was  a  man  of  no 
vices,  and  his  food  and  clothing  cost  him  little ;  so  in  some 
by-corner  a  goodly  hoard  of  sixpences  and  dollars  was 
accumulating,  doubtless,  for  the  ultiir  benefit  of  the 
tiny  witch  who  clambered  on  his  knees,  pulled  his  hair, 
and  ate  the  choicest  bits  from  his  basin  unreproved  *,  who 
thrust  out  her  foot  or  her  tongue  at  any  of  the  rancheros 
who  spoke  to  her,  or  with  equally  little  reason  fondled  and 
kissed  them ;  and  who  at  the  sight  of  the  admin'istrador 
or  clerk  or  Dona  Feliz,  shrank  beneath  Pedro's  striped 
blanket,  peeping  out  from  its  folds  with  half-terrified,  half- 
defiant  eyes,  which  softened  into  admiration  as  Dona  Pita 
and  her  children  passed  by. 


I  ■.-■  s. 


CHAT  A   AND   CHINITA. 


71 


Tliey  also  in  tliuir  turn  used  to  look  at  her  with  wonder, 
she  wjis  so  dilFerent  from  the  score  or  more  of  hulf-niiked, 
brown  little  figures  that  lolled  on  the  sand  or  in  the  door- 
ways of  the  huts,  or  crept  in  to  Mass  to  stare  at  them  with 
wide-opened  black  eyes.  They  used  to  pass  these  very 
conscious  of  their  stitHy-starched  pink  skirts,  their  shining 
rebosos,  and  thin  little  slippers  of  colored  satin.  But 
though  this  wild  little  elf  crouching  by  Pedro's  side  was 
as  dirty  and  as  unkempt  as  the  other  ranchero  children, 
they  vaguely  felt  that  she  was  a  creature  to  talk  to,  to 
play  with,  not  to  dazzle  with  Sunday  finery,  —  for  even  so 
young  do  minds  begin  to  reason. 

As  for  Chinita,  after  the  rare  occasions  when  she  saw 
the  children  of  the  administrador,  she  tormented  Pedro 
with  questions.  "What  sort  of  a  hut  did  they  live  in? 
What  did  they  eat?  Where  did  their  pretty  pink  dresses 
come  from?" 

This  last  question  Pedro  answered  by  sending  by  the 
first  woman  who  went  to  the  next  village  for  a  wonder  V; 
flowered  muslin,  in  which  to  her  immense  delight  Chinita 
for  a  da}'  glittered  like  a  rainbow,  but  which  the  dust  and 
grime  soon  reduced  to  a  level  with  the  more  sombre  tat- 
ters in  which  she  usuall}'  appeared.  When  these  were  at 
their  worst,  Doiia  Feliz  sometimes  stopped  a  moment  to 
look  at  her  and  throw  a  reproving  glance  at  Pedro  ;  but  she 
never  spoke  to  him  of  the  child  either  for  good  or  ill. 

One  day,  however,  —  it  was  the  day,  the,y  remembered 
afterward,  on  which  the  Padre  Francisco  celebrated  Mass 
for  the  last  time,  —  the  two  little  girls  accompanied  by 
their  mother  and  followed  by  their  nurse  went  to  the 
church  in  new  frocks  of  deep  purple,  most  wonderful  to 
see.  Chinita  could  not  keep  her  eyes  off  them,  though 
llosai'io  frowned  majestically,  drawing  her  black  eyebrows 
together  and  even  slyly  shaking  a  finger  half  covered  with 
little  rings  of  tinsel  and  bright-colored  stones.  But  tlie 
other  child,  the  little  Chata,  covertly  smiled  at  her  as  she 
half  guiltily  turned  her  gaze  from  the  saint  before  whose 
shrine  she  was  kneeling;  and  that  smile  had  so  much  of 
kindliness,  curiosity,  invitation  in  it  that  Chinita  on  the 
instant  formed  a  desperate  resolution,  and  determined  at 
once  to  carry  it  through. 

iS'ow,  it  liad  happened  that  from  her  earliest  infancy 


72 


CIIATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


)!.: 


I 


I'ctlro  had  forbidden  her  to  be  taken,  or  hiter  'jo  ;^o,  into  the 
court  upon  which  the  apartments  of  the  aduiinistrador 
opened,  ilvcrywhere  else,  —  even  into  the  stables  wiierc 
the  horses  and  mules,  for  all  Pedro's  confidence,  might 
have  kiclied  or  trodden  her ;  to  the  courtyard  where  the 
duck-pond  was ;  to  the  Icitclicn,  where  more  than  once  she 
had  stumbled  over  a  pot  of  boiling  black  beans — anywhere, 
everywhere,  might  she  go  except  to  the  small  court  which 
lay  just  back  of  the  principal  and  most  extensive  one. 
How  ollen  had  Chinita  crossed  the  first,  and  in  the  very 
act  of  peeping  through  tlie  doorway  of  the  second  iiad  been 
snatched  back  by  Pedro  and  carried  kicking  and  scream- 
ing, tugging  at  his  black  hair  and  beard,  back  to  the  snake- 
hung  vestibule  to  be  terrified  by  some  grim  tale  into  sub- 
mission ;  or  on  occasion  had  even  been  shut  up  in  the  hut 
to  nurse  Florencia's  baby,  —  if  nursing  it  could  be  called, 
where  tlie  heavy,  fat  lump  of  infant  mortality  was  set  upon 
the  ragged  skirt  of  the  other  rebellious  infant,  to  pin  her  to 
her  mother  earth.  Florencia  perhaps  resented  tiiis  mode 
of  punishment  more  tlian  either  of  the  victims,  for  tliey  be- 
gan with  screams  and  generally  ended  by  amicably  falling 
asleep,  — the  straight  coarse  locks  of  the  little  Indian  min- 
gling with  the  brown  curls,  still  tinged  with  gold  and  red- 
dened at  the  tii)s  by  the  sun,  of  the  fairer-skinned  girl. 

Upon  tliis  day,  Chinita  in  her  small  mind  resolved  there 
should  be  no  loitering  at  the  doorway ;  and  scarcely  had 
the  two  demure  little  maidens  passed  into  tlie  inner  court 
and  followed  their  mother  up  the  stairway,  when  she  darted 
in  and  looked  eagerly'  around.  There  was  nothing  terrible 
there  at  all,  —  an  open  door  upon  the  lower  floor  showing 
tlie  brick  lloor  of  a  dining-room,  where  a  long  table  set  for 
a  meal  stood,  and  a  boy  was  moving  about  in  sandalled  feet 
making  ready  for  the  mid-day  dinner.  There  was  a  great 
earthen  jar  of  water  sunk  a  little  in  the  fioor  of  a  far  cor- 
ner, and  some  chairs  scattered  about.  A  picture  of  the 
Virgin  of  Guadalupe,  under  which  was  a  small  vessel  of 
holy  water,  met  her  eyes  as  she  glanced  in.  She  turned 
away  disappointed  and  went  to  another  door,  that  of  a  sit- 
ting-room, as  bare  and  uninviting  as  tlie  dining-room,  but 
with  an  altar  at  one  end,  above  which  stood  a  figure  of 
Mary  with  the  infant  Jesus  in  her  arms.  Even  the  saints 
in  the  churcl 


may 


were  not  so  gorgeous  as  this. 


Chinita  gazed 


CHATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


73 


in  admiration  and  delight ;  if  she  coi  d  have  taken  the 
waxen  babe  from  the  mother's  armt  he  would  have  sat 
down  then  and  there  in  utter  absorption  and  forgetfuhiess. 
As  it  was,  she  erossed  herself  and  ran  out  among  the  flower- 
pots in  the  courtyard  and  anxiously  looked  up.  Yes, 
there  leaning  over  the  railings  of  the  corridor  were  those 
she  sought.  At  sight  of  her  liosario  screamed  with  de- 
light, her  budding  aristocratic  scruples  yielding  at  once  to 
the  charms  of  novelty.  Chata  waved  her  hand  and  smiled, 
both  running  eagerly  to  descend  the  stairs  and  grasp  their 
new  play-fellov 

''  What  is  yc  !r  -  .me?"  asked  both  in  a  breath.  "Why 
are  you  alwa  s  wui  Pedro,  at  the  gate?  Who  is  your 
mother,  and  why  have  you  got  such  funny  hair?  Who 
combs  it  for  you?     Docs  n't  it  hurt?  " 

Chinita  ansT  orcd  this  last  question  with  a  rueful  grim- 
ace, at  th  same  time  putting  one  dirty  little  finger  on 
llosario's  c^ral  necklace,  —  a  libert}'  which  that  damsel  re- 
sented with  a  sharp  slap,  which  was  instantly  returned  with 
interest,  much  to  Kosario's  surprise  and  Chata's  dismay. 

At  the  cry  which  Kosario  uttered,  following  it  up  with 
sobs  and  lamentations,  both  Dona  Feliz  and  Dofia  Eita 
appeared.  Kosaric  Hew  to  her  mother.  "Oh,  the  naughty 
cat !  the  bad,  wicked  girl !  she  scratched  me  !  she  slapped 
me  !  "  she  cried,  between  her  sobs. 

Chata  followed  her  sister,  still  keeping  Chinita's  hand, 
which  she  had  caught  in  the  fray.  "  Poor  Kosario!  poor 
little  sister,"  she  said  pityingl}' ;  "but,  Mamacita^  just 
look  where  Rosa  slapped  the  poor  pretty  Chinita,"  and  she 
softly  smoothed  the  cheek  which  Chinita  sullenly  strove  to 
turn  awa}'. 

"  Why,  it  is  that  wretched  little  foundling  of  Pedro's ! " 
cried  Doila  Rita,  indignantly,  as  she  wiped  Rosario's 
streaming  cheeks.  "Get  you  gone,  you  fierce  little  ti- 
gress !  Chata,  let  go  her  hand  ;  she  will  scratch  you,  she 
may  bite  you  next." 

"  Oh,  no,"  cooed  Chata,  quite  in  the  ear  of  the  ragged 
little  fury  beside  her ;  while  Dona  Foliz,  who  had  been 
silent,  placed  her  fingers  under  the  chin  of  the  little  waif, 
and  lifted  her  face  to  her  gaze.  "  Ue  not  angry  at  a 
children's  quarrel,"  she  said ;  "  they  will  be  all  the  better 
friends  for  it  later." 


74 


a/ ATA   AND   CIIINITA, 


I) 


H 


"  But  I  don't  wish  tliciii  to  bo  friends,"  cried  Dona 
Ivita,  —  tliough  the  tibsohite  separiition  ol"  classes  rendered 
intiniiite  association  possible  and  connnon  between  them 
which  neither  detracted  from  the  dignity  of  the  one  caste, 
nor  was  likely  to  arouse  emulation  in  the  other.  "  What  a 
wild,  savage  little  fox !  No,  no,  my  lamb,  she  shall  not 
come  near  thee  again  !  " 

Ihit  the  mother's  lamb  was  of  another  mind,  for  sud- 
d.Mily  she  stopped  crying,  pulled  the  new-comer's  ragged 
skirt,  and  said,  "  Come  along,  I'll  show  you  my  liLlle 
fishes ;  "  and  in  another  moment,  to  Dona  Ritas  amaze- 
ment and  Dona  Feliz's  quiet  amusement,  the  thiee  chil- 
dren were  leaning  together,  chatting  and  laughing,  over 
the  edge  of  the  stone  basin  in  the  centre  of  the  court. 

In  the  midst  of  their  play,  a  sudden  fanc}'  seized  Dona 
Feliz.  Catcliing  ui)  a  towel  that  lay  at  hand,  she  halC- 
playfuU}',  luilf-commamlingly  caught  the  elf-liiie  child  and 
washed  her  face.  "What  a  smooth  soft  skin,  what  deli- 
cately pencilled  brows  appeared  !  how  red  was  the  bow  of 
that  perfect  little  mouth  1  Doiia  Rita  sighed  for  very 
envy ;  Dona  Feliz  held  the  little  face  in  her  hands,  and 
looked  at  it  intently.  But  Chinita,  already  rebellious  at 
tlic  water  and  towel,  absolutel}'  resented  this  ;  and  in  si)ite 
of  tlie  cries  of  the  children  she  broke  awa^'  and  ran  from 
the  courtyard,  arriving  breathless  at  the  knees  of  Pedro, 
to  cover  herself  with  the  grimy  folds  of  his  blanket. 

Little  by  little  he  drew  from  her  what  had  passed,  com- 
forting her  though  he  made  no  audible  comment ;  and  an 
hour  later  Dona  Feliz,  catching  sight  of  the  child,  wondered 
how  it  had  been  possible  for  her  to  get  her  face  so  dirty  in 
so  short  a  time,  though  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  soon  caused 
her  to  smile  gravel}'.  While  Chinita  had  been  telling  her 
adventures,  Pedro  had  drawn  his  grimy  fingers  tenderly 
over  her  cheeks,  in  this  way  at  once  resenting  Dona  Feliz's 
interference,  curiosit}',  interest,  whatever  it  was,  and  man- 
ifesting his  sympatl<y  with  the  aggrieved  one.  Nor  did  he 
scold  the  child  for  her  intrusion  to  the  court,  or  forbid  her 
to  go  again  ;  and  when  after  some  dr.ys  of  hesitation,  an- 
ger, and  irresistible  attraction  she  found  her  way  thither, 
she  wore  on  her  neck  a  string  of  coral  beads  which  made 
Rosario  crj'  out  with  envy,  and  wliich  Chata  regarded 
with  wide-eyed  and  suh'nm  admiration. 


haps 
so,  \\ 

shelf 
whi(| 
defid 

sf 

like 


■d 

C'lU 

te, 
I.  :i 
nut 

11(1- 
ij;cd 
tllo 


Xll. 

The  acquaintance  thus  unproniisingly  bcfjun  amonp;  the 
three  children  jyrew  apace.  At  first,  Chinita's  vi.sits  were 
as  infrequent  as  Pedro  s  vvatclilulness  and  Dona  Rita's  anti- 
patii^'  to  tlie  Ibundlin*?  could  render  tliem,  altiiough  neitiier 
oj)enly  interfered,  -  Pedro,  for  reasons  best  I<nown  to  him- 
self, and  Dona  Kita  out  of  respect  to  her  motlier-in-luw, 
wlio  slie  saw,  in  her  undemonstrative  and  quiet  way^  seemed 
inclined  to  regard  the  child  with  an  interest  dilfering  from 
that  with  which  she  favored  the  children  of  the  herdsmen 
and  laborers.  Dona  Feliz  seldom  gave  Chinita  auNthing, 
even  in  the  way  of  sweets,  with  whi(^h  on  special  festival 
days  she  sometimes  regaled  the  others ;  but  in  the  chill 
days  of  the  rainy  season,  or  when  the  norther  blew,  she  it 
was  who  chid  lu^r  if  she  ran  barefooted  across  the  courts, 
or  left  her  shoulders  and  head  uncovered,  and  who  set  all 
the  children  to  string  wonderful  beads  of  amber  and  red 
and  yellow,  placing  t  lie  painted  gourd  which  contained  them 
close  to  the  brasit'r  of  glowing  coals,  so  that  the  shivering 
little  creature  might  benefit  by  its  warmth. 

Not  that  the  waif  was  neglected,  according  to  the  cus- 
toms of  Pedro's  people,  —  indeed  he  was  lavish  to  her  of 
all  sorts  of  rural  finery.  But  where  all  children  ran  bare- 
foot, where  none  wore  more  clothing  than  a  chemise,  a 
skirt,  and  the  inevitable  reboso  (a  long  striped  scarf  of 
flexible  cotton),  and  in  a  cliine  where  this  was  usually 
more  than  sufllcient  for  protection,  it  did  not  occur  either 
to  Florencia  or  Pedro  to  i)iovide  more  against  those  few 
bitter  days,  when  it  seemed  quite  natural  to  shiver,  per- 
haps grow  ill,  and  to  mutter  against  the  bad  weather ;  and 
so,  very  often  the  child  he  would  have  given  his  life  to 
shelter  had  run  a  thousand  risks  of  wind  and  weather, 
which  custom  had  inured  her  to,  and  a  robust  constitution 
defied. 

Still  Chinita  was  glad  of  shelter  and  warmth,  though 
like  others,  she  bore  the  lack  of  the m  stoicalh',  and  at  first 


I 


70 


CIIATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


i\ 


111' 


if! 


ill  Iho  biid  weatlicr  went  to  the  mliniiiistnuloi's  for  kik'U 
t'oiiilbrts,  lis  imich  lis  IVoin  llio  attmction  wliicli  Kusaiu/.s 
HpiU'l'ul  IbjulnosH  aiul  Cluita's  soil  IVicnilliness  ollbivd  ; 
wliilo  so  it  cluiiiccil  that  she  was  sull'ered  to  go  and  come  as 
the  do<^s  did,  sometimes  caressed,  sometimes  greeted  with 
a  sliarp  word,  often  enongh  unnoticed  except  l)y  Chata, 
wlio  looked  for  the  visit  each  day,  never  forgetting  to  save 
in  anticipation  a  tiny  bit'of  the  i)reserved  fruit  she  had  been 
given  at  dinner,  or  a  handful  of  nuts.  These  olferings  of 
ad'ection  often  proved  ellicacious  in  soothing  the  irritation 
caused  by  Kosario's  uncertain  moods.  Yet  it  was  to 
Ivosario  tliat  tliis  i)erverse  little  creature  attached  herself; 
witii  her  she  romped,  and  chased  butterllies  in  the  garden  ; 
with  her  slie  laughed  and  quarrelled  ;  and  Chata  looked  on 
the  two  with  a  i)recoeious  benignity  pretty  to  see,  leaning 
often  upon  Doiia  Feliz's  lap,  and,  with  a  quaint  little  way 
she  had,  smoothing  down  with  one  little  linger  the  tip  of 
her  tiny  nose  which  obstinately  turned  skyward,  giving 
just  the  suggestion  of  sauciness  to  features  which  otherwise 
would  have  been  inanely  uncharacteristic. 

Doiia  Kita  was  of  opinion  that  all  that  was  necessary  in 
the  education  of  girls  was  to  teach  them  to  hem  so  nesitly 
that  the  stitches  should  not  show  in  the  finest  cambric, 
and  to  make  conserves  of  various  sorts,  —  adding,  by  way 
of  accom[)lishment,  instruction  iu  the  drawing  of  threads 
and  the  working  of  insertions  in  many  and  (juaint  designs, 
or  the  modelling  of  fruits  and  llgiu'cs  in  wax,  to  be  used 
in  the  wonderful  mimic  representation  of  the  scene  of  the 
birth  of  the  Saviour  made  at  Christmas.  But  Dona  Feliz 
held  more  liberal  views,  and  much  as  she  esteemed  accom- 
plishments, considered  them  of  inferior  value  to  the  arts  of 
reading  and  writing,  which  she  had  herself  acquired  with 
infinite  dilliculty,  at  the  pain  of  disobedience  to  well- 
beloved  parents. 

Reading  and  writing,  according  to  Feliz's  fatL  ^r,  were 
inventions  of  the  arch-encnn',  dangerous  to  men,  and  fatal 
to  the  weaker  sex.  What  could  a  woman  use  writing  for, 
asked  he,  but  to  correspond  with  lovers,  —  when  she  should 
onl}'  know  of  the  existence  of  such  beings  when  one  was 
l^resentcd  as  her  fuiure  husband,  by  a  wise  and  discreet 
father.  What  could  a  woman  desire  to  read  but  her 
prayers?  —  and  those  she  should  know  by  heart.    In  vain, 


C II ATA   AXD   ClffA'ITA. 


77 


lull 

jio's 
fo.l ; 

ilS 

ivitli 


tlu'ivforo,  lifid  been  Fcliz's  npponl  to  Ito  l.injj;ht  to  rend 
and  wriU'.  At  last  she  and  tlio  Scfioiita  IsalH'l  had  piiz/.K'd 
out  the  tbrbidck'ii  lore  together,  both  copying  portions  of 
slolt'ii  letters,  or  tlie  crabbial  nuinnseripls  in  which  s[)ecial 
prayers  to  i)atron  saints  were  written,  tiins  accpiirinj^  an 
cxqnisite  callgraphy,  and  learning  the  meanings  of  words 
as  they  noticed  them  a[)i)ear  and  reappear  in  the  co[)ies  of 
prayers  they  knew  by  heart,  liy  a  similar  process  the; 
art  of  reading  printing  was  acquired,  —  all  in  secret,  all 
with  trembling  and  fear.  Isabel,  much  assisted  by  Feliz, 
who  was  older  and  had  sooner  begun  her  task,  had  suc- 
cessfully concealed  her  knowledge  until  it  could  be  re- 
vealed with  safetj' ;  and  great  was  the  indignation  and 
surprise  of  Felix's  father,  when  on  her  wedding  da}'  the 
bride  took  up  the  pen  anil  signed  her  marriage  contract, 
instead  of  alllxing  the  decorous  cross  which  had  been  ex- 
pected of  her,  —  while  the  groom,  too,  was  perhaps  not 
over  i)leased  to  find  himself  the  husband  of  a  wife  of  such 
high  ac(inirements. 

IJut  these  acquirements,  added  to  her  natural  penetra- 
tion, had  been  powerful  factors  in  the  life  of  Dona  Feli/. 
Ilcr  husband  had  been  weak  and  ineflicicnt,  yet  had  through 
her  tact  retained  throughout  his  life  the  management  of  the 
Garcia  estates  ;  in  which  he  had  been  succeeded  by  his  son, 
a  man  of  more  character,  which  perhaps  the  preponderating 
inlluence  of  his  mother  as  much  overshadowed  as  it  ha(l 
sustained  and  lent  a  deceptive  brilliancy  to  that  of  his 
father,  who,  like  many  a  man  who  goes  to  his  grave  re- 
spected and  admired,  had  shone  from  a  reflected  light  as 
unsuspected  and  unappreciated  as  it  was  unobtrusive 
and  unfaltering. 

Doila  F'eliz  had  all  her  life,  in  her  quiet,  self-assured 
wa}',  ruled  in  her  household,  —  in  her  husband's  time  be- 
cause he  had  accepted  her  opinions  and  acted  upon  them, 
unconscious  that  they  were  not  his  own  ;  while  now  by  her 
son  she  was  deferred  to  from  the  habitual  respect  a  INIexi- 
can  yields  to  his  mother,  and  from  the  steadfast  admiration 
with  which  from  infancy  he  had  recognized  her  talents. 
Thus,  it  is  not  an  exaggei-ation  to  say  that  Don  Eafael, 
whatever  might  have  been  his  temptations  to  do  otherwise, 
invariably  i(lentified  himself  in  +'iought  as  well  as  act  with 
the  mother  to  whom  he  felt  l     owed  all  that  was  strong 


1.1^ 


'8 


CTIATA   AND   CHTNTTA. 


!:tl 


I 


or  rortunato  or  to  bo  dosirod,  not,  only  in  liis  station,  bnt 
in  mind  or  person.  Tlioreforc  it  was  not  to  be  cxpoetcMl 
thtit  he  would  interfere  when  Dona  Kita  coni[)Uiined  to  him 
that  his  mother  made  Kosario  or}'  b}'  keeping  her  poriiiijf 
over  the  m3'steries  of  the  al[)habet,  and  that  Cliata  inkinl 
her  finj^ers  and  frocks  over  vain  endeavors  to  form  the  bow- 
letters  at  a  required  ang'lc,  and  that  both  would  be  better 
employed  with  the  needle.  And  indeed  Don  Kafael 
thought  it  a  pi'etty  sight,  when  he  came  ui)on  his  mother 
seated  in  her  low  chair,  with  the  two  sisters  befoi-e  her, 
Ilosario's  month  forming  a  tinted  circle  as  she  ejaculated 
"  Oh  !  "  in  a  desperate  attempt  at  "  O,"  and  Chata  follow- 
ing the  lines  painfully  with  one  fat  forellnger,  her  cncs 
almost  touching  the  book,  —  no  daint}'  primer  with  pret-' 
til}'^  colored  pictures,  bnt  a  certain  red-bound  volume 
of  "  Letters  of  a  IMother,"  containing  advice  and  admoni- 
tion as  alarming  as  the  long  and  abstruse  words  in  which 
they  were  conve,yed. 

With  all  her  inattention  and  impatience,  Rosario  learned 
her  tasks  with  a  rapidity  which  roused  the  pride  of  her 
mother's  heart;  but  Chata,  in  those  earh' years,  stumbled 
wofully  on  the  road  to  learning.  At  lesson-time  Chinita, 
not  a  whit  less  grim}*  than  ol  old,  used  to  hasten  to  crouch 
down  behind  her  victimized  little  patroness,  and  sometimes 
whisper  impatiently  in  her  ear,  sometimes  give  her  a  sly 
tweak  of  the  hair,  when  her  impatience  r-rew  be3'oud 
bounds,  and  at  others  vociferate  tlio  word  with  startling 
force  and  suddenness ;  until  one  day  it  occurred  to  Dona 
Feliz,  who  had  made  no  effort  to  teach  her  anything,  and 
had  often  been  oblivious  of  her  very  presence,  that  this 
little  elf-locked  ranciierita  was  her  aptest  pupil.  That  day, 
when  the  others  unwillingly  seated  themselves  to  their 
copy-books,  she  watched  the  gate-keeper's  child,  and  saw 
her  write  the  words  she  had  set  for  her  little  j)upil8  upon 
the  brick  floor  with  a  piece  of  charcoal  taken  from  the 
kitchen,  then  covertly  wipe  them  olf  with  the  hem  of  her 
skirt. 

Dona  Feliz  was  touched.  Here  was  a  child  of  five 
doing  what  she  herself  at  fifteen  had  painfully  ncquired. 
She  did  not  j)ause  to  think  that  what  with  her  had  been 
the  result  of  deep  thought,  was  here  but  parrot-liko 
though  effective  imitation.     She  took  away  the  charcoal 


on, 


CFTATA   AND   C ITT  NTT  A. 


79 


from  the  oliild's  blackened  fingers,  bade  licr  stand  at  the 
table,  and  gave  her  pen  and  ink. 

After  the  lesson  Chinita  Hew  rather  than  ran  across  the 
court,  leaving  IJosario  and  Chata  astounded  and  offended 
that  she  would  not  pl.'iy,  and  tiuMist  into  Pedro's  han<l  a 
piece  of  dirty  paper  covered  with  cabalistic  characters.  She 
had  already  confided  to  him  that  she  could  read,  and  had 
even  once  si)clU'd  out  to  him  a  scrap  of  printed  pojier 
which  had  come  in  his  v/av,  amazing  him  by  her  knowl- 
edge ;  but  now  that  she  could  write,  a  veritable  supersti- 
tious awe  of  this  elfish  child  befell  him. 

That  evening  Pedro  stole  into  the  church,  and  lighted 
two  long  candles  before  the  image  of  the  Virgin.  Were 
they  an  otfering  of  thanks  for  a  miracle  performed,  or  a 
bribe  against  evil?  The  man  went  back  to  his  post 
thoughtful,  his  breast  swelling  with  pride,  his  head  bowed 
in  apprehension.  He  never  had  heard  that  those  the  gods 
love  die  young,  yet  something  of  such  a  fear  oppressed 
him,  —  though  as  he  found  Chinita  in  flagrant  disgrace  with 
Florencia  because  she  had  drunk  the  last  drop  of  thin  corn- 
gruel  which  the  woman  had  saved  for  her  uncle's  supper, 
he  had  reasonable  ground  for  believing  that  the  h^-althful 
per\'ersity  of  her  animal  spirits  and  moral  nature  might 
counteract  the  malefic  effect  of  mental  precocity  ;  and  as  he 
was  thirsty  that  night,  so'might  have  been  interpreted  the 
muttered  "  A  dry  joke  this !  "  with  which  he  looked  into 
the  empty  jar,  and  swallowed  his  tough  tortillas  and  goat- 
milk  cheese. 

"  Ay!  but  Florencia  is  cross  to  poor  Chinita,"  whis- 
pered this  astute  little  damsel,  seizing  the  opportunity  to 
creep  up  behind  him  when  he  was  not  looking,  of  stealing 
a  brown  arm  around  his  neck,  and  interposing  her  shock 
of  curls  between  his  mouth  and  the  morsel  he  destined  for 
it.  "Who  has  poor  Chinita  to  love  her  but  Pedro,  good 
Pedro?  "  And  so  Pedro's  anger  was  charmed  awa}',  even 
as  he  thought  evil  might  be  turned  from  his  wilful  charge 
by  the  faint  glow  of  the  two  feeble  candles  he  had  lighted. 
Were  her  coaxing  waj's  as  evanescent,  as  little  to  be  relied 
on,  as  their  flicker?    Ay,  Chinita! 


% 


■  i      I 


itic 


r  I 


If!; 


ir 


XIII. 

These  few  j'cars?  of  which  the  flight  has  been  thus  briefly 
noted,  had  wroiiirht  a  subtle  change  in  the  appearance  of 
Tres  Ilermanos  as  well  as  in  tlie  life  of  its  inhabitants. 
Gradually  there  came  over  it  that  almost  indescribable 
suggestion  of  absenteeism  which  falls  upon  a  dwelling 
when  there  is  death  within,  and  which  is  wholly  different 
from  the  careless  untidiness  of  a  house  temporarily  closed. 
True,  there  was  movement  still  at  Tres  Ilermanos,  — 
people  came  and  went,  the  fields  were  tilled,  the  herds  of 
-horses  roamed  upon  the  hillside,  the  cattle  lowed  in  the 
pastures,  the  vilhige  wore  its  accustomed  appearance  of 
squalid  plenty,  the  children  played  at  every  doorway,  the 
same  numbers  of  heavil3'-laden  mules  passed  in  at  the 
house-gates,  the  granaries  were  as  riciily  stored,  —  and  yet, 
even  to  the  casual  observer,  there  was  a  lack.  At  first, 
one  would  attribute  it  wholly  to  the  pile  of  deserted  build- 
ings to  the  west.  No  smoke  ever  issued  from  the  tall 
stack  of  the  reduction-works  ;  the  lizards  ran  unmolested 
upon  the  walls,  which  already  had  crumbled  in  a  pluce  or 
two,  afibrding  entrance  to  a  few  adventurous  goats,  which 
browsed  upon  the  herbage  that  sprang  up  in  the  court,  and 
even  around  the  great  stones  in  the  reduction-sheds.  But 
turning  the  eyes  from  these,  there  was  something  desolate 
in  the  appearance  of  the  great  house  itself.  The  upper 
windows  opening  upon  the  country  were  alwa3'S  closed,  dust 
gathered  in  the  balcou}'  './here  Dona  Isabel  had  been  wont 
to  stand,  and  a  rose,  which  had  long  striven  against  neg- 
lect, waved  its  slender  tendrils  disconsolately  in  the  even- 
ing breeze.  Some  one  pathetically  calls  a  closed  window 
the  dropped  eyelid  of  a  house  ;  and  so  seemed  those  barred 
>■'  it^M's  of  cedar,  u[)on  which  beat  the  last  rays  of  the 
rictting  sun. 

The  great  event  of  the  American  War  had  despoiled 
Tres  Ilermanos  of  many  of  its  3'oung  men.     Others  had 


1 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


81 


1 


from  time  to  time  been  drawn  into  the  broils  that  followed, 
and  which  had  been  augmented  by  the  dictatorship  of 
Santa  Anna ;  yet  the  estate  itself  had  escaped  invasion. 
Its  great  storehouses  of  grain  remained  intact,  its  fields 
were  untrodden  by  the  horses  of  soldiery  either  hostile  or 
iViendly  ;  but  a  change  menaced  it,  —  a  hoarse  murmur  as 
of  the  sea  seemed  to  gather  and  break  against  the  bulwark 
of  mountains  that  environed  it.  News  of  the  great  events 
of  the  day  penetrated  the  remote  valley,  and  with  them 
vague  appreliensions  and  disquiet.  Even  the  laborers  in  the 
fields  felt  the  oppression  of  the  storm  which  was  raging 
without,  and  which  threatened  to  break  upon  them.  Their 
hearts  quaked ;  they  knew  not  what  an  hour  might  bring 
forth.  For  the  first  time  they  realized  that  the  great  events 
which  had  been  transpiring,  and  were  still  in  prog;  S3 
be3'ond  their  cordon  of  hills,  meant  more  to  them  than 
food  for  gossip,  or  an  attraction  to  some  idle  l)oy  to  whom 
army  life  meant  a  frolic  and  freedom  from  work. 

These  events  had  followed  one  another  in  such  rapid 
succession,  and  were  seemingl}'  so  contradictory,  that  to 
the  onlooker  the}'  appeared  irrational,  childish,  even  trai- 
torous. But  in  truth  the}'  were  the  vague,  blind  outstrctch- 
ings  of  a  people  groping  for  self-government,  for  a  liberty 
and  peace  whicii  they  were  both  by  nature  and  training 
as  yet  unprepared  to  enjoy.  The  thraldom  of  Spain  hail 
left  them  madly  hupatient  of  fetters,  yet  they  clung  to  the 
stake  to  which  th.'y  had  been  chained.  Were  the  prop 
called  King  or  President,  an  individual  rather  than  abstruse 
principles  was  demanded  to  uphold  them.  This  it  was 
which  in  tiie  chaos  that  followed  the  war  with  the  United 
States  led  them  to  recall  the  man  whom  they  luid  exiled,  — 
the  man  who  had  failed  them  in  their  greatest  need,  yet 
whose  unaccountable  ascendency  over  the  minds  of  the 
masses  led  them  to  turn  to  him  again  as  a  deliverer,  and 
whose  triumphant  march  through  the  land  intensified  a 
thousand  times  the  prevailing  misery.  As  one  of  the 
historians  of  Mexico  says  of  Santa  Anna,  — 

"  On  his  lips  had  been  heard  tlie  words  of  brotherhood  and 
reconciliation.  The  majority  had  believed  in  them,  because 
they  thought  that  in  the  solitude  of  exile  the  experience  of 
years  and  the  spectacle  of  his  alliicted  country  nmst  have  puri- 
fied and  instructc'l  the  man.     It  is  impossible  to  say  whether 

G 


S" 


-"^^    dfc 


82 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


■M' 


J    li 


his  was  hypocrisy  or  a  flash  of  good  faith ;  but  certain  it  is  he 
deceived  those  who  believed,  and  silenced  those  who  had  no 
faith  in  his  words,  and  none  can  imagine  the  days  of  distress 
and  mourning  which  followed. 

"  His  term  of  office  was  to  last  a  year;  his  promises  were  to 
redeem  his  nation  from  the  yoke  of  slavery,  to  announce  a  code 
of  wise  and  just  measures  which  should  insure  its  happiness  and 
prosperity.  A  hopeless  task,  perhaps,  in  the  midst  of  a  nation 
distracted  by  years  of  foreign  and  civil  wars ;  but  at  least  an 
attempt  was  possible.  But  when  once  the  sweets  of  power  were 
tasted,  all  sense  of  honor  and  patriotism  was  lost  in  the  intoxi- 
cation of  personal  ambition.  Beguiled  by  promises  of  protec- 
tion of  their  interests,  so  often  and  so  violently  assailed  by  the 
Liberal  and  Conservative  parties,  the  clergy  and  their  adherents 
in  all  parts  of  the  Republic  secured  the  passage  of  an  Act  which 
declared  him  perpetual  ruler,  with  the  title  of  Serene  Highness, 
with  his  will  as  his  only  law,  and  his  caprices  his  only  standard." 

Those  not  lo^t  in  the  inconceivable  stupor  which  the 
deadly  upas  in  their  midst  cast  far  and  near,  opened  wide 
eyes  of  aiaaze.  A  trumpet  cry  rang  through  the  land ! 
Liberals  and  Conservatives,  even  the  less  bigoted  of  the 
clerical  party^  f;prang  to  arms.  The  entire  nation,  griev- 
ing and  rethicod  to  misery  by  the  loss  of  ninety  thousand 
men  who  had  been  dragged  from  their  homes  to  suj^port 
the  pomp  and  power  of  the  tjTant,  to  become  a  prey  ui)on 
the  land,  and  upon  the  helpless  families  of  whom  they 
should  naturally  have  been  the  support,  had  refused  long 
to  be  dazzled  by  the  spectacle  of  military  pomp,  or  to  be 
beguiled  by  the  fiestas  and  processions  which  in  every 
town  and  village  made  the  administration  one  that  ap- 
peared a  prolonged  carnival  and  madness.  These  con- 
tinued insults  to  the  public  misery  ;  the  daily  proscriptions 
of  men  who  dcred  to  raise  the  voice  or  write  a  line  against 
the  Dictator  or  his  senseless  polic}' ;  the  oppressions  of 
the  army  ;  the  cold,  cruol,  implacable  espionage  which  made 
life  unendurable,  —  these  wrought  quickly  their  inevitable 
consequences  among  a  people  accustomed  to  disorder  and 
revolutions,  and  who  in  their  blind,  irrational  way  longed 
for  liberty.  Disgust  and  detestation  of  the  dictatorship 
became  general.  As  suddenly  as  it  had  sprung  into  being 
it  was  met  and  crushed.  Rebellions  sprang  up  on  eveiy 
hand ;  the  populace  rose  in  mass ;  the  statues  of  Santa 
Anna  were  thrown  down  ip  the  streets,  his  portraits  stoned  ; 


gni 


*:"*»"">»yw 


to  be 


i 


CHATA    AND   CIIuV/'A. 


33 


the  houses  of  his  adherents  were  ir  ":e<l,  their  earriapjca 
destroyed.  The  popular  liny  culmii-  .cd  :a  the  practie.-il 
measure  of  the  promulgation  of  the  ])lau  of  Ayutla,  w]ii"h 
condemned  to  perpetual  exile  the  ambitious  dciua<40guc  who 
had  disappointed  and  betrayed  all  parties,  mf>('l<in<j:  with 
cruel  levit}'  his  country's  woes,  and  wliicli  declared  for  tlic 
establishment  of  a  Kepul)lic  based  upon  the  broadest  plat- 
form of  civil  rights.  Gomez  Farias  gave  form  to  tills  act ; 
but  Ignacio  Comonlbrt  became  its  soul  when  he  proclaimed 
\i  in  Acapulco,  and  in  the  almost  inaccessible  recesses  of 
the  South  raised  the  standard  of  a  rebelUon,  wliich  rapidly 
extending  tlirougliout  the  land  hurled  from  its  pedestal 
the  idol  of  claj',  that  for  a  brief  moment  liad  been  taken 
for  gold,  to  place  in  its  stead  a  new  favorite. 

Then  another  exile  returned  to  liis  country,  heralded 
by  neither  trumpets  nor  acclamations.  Calm,  astute, 
watchful,  he  took  his  place  amid  the  revolutionary  forces  : 
but  without  seeming  effort,  from  a  follower  he  becairc 
a  leader.  His  was  the  brain  that  was  to  develop  from  the 
imperfect  plan  of  Ayutla  liberties  move  daring  and  })recious 
than  me  i  had  learned  to  dream  of  to  that  hour.  Coraon- 
fort  the  last  President  was  the  (Igure  toward  which  all  eyes 
turned;  but  behind  him  Poood  the  quiet,  insiniiificant 
Indian,  successful  general  now,  Bcu'vo  Juarez,  shaping  the 
destinies  of  those  who  ignore .i  or  d-  spised  him. 

Comonfort  was  daring  -apulsi.'e,  utterly  devoid  of 
physical  fear ;  a  man  of  action,  prone  to  plunge  into 
dilUculties,  yet  ready  to  coiiipromise  whcio  he  could  not 
fight,  antagonistic  to  the  tenii<"-;!!  power  of  the  Church, 
yet  supersti  iously  bound  by  Its  traditions,  he  was  at  once 
the  initiator  and  the  enemy  of  reform.  Finding  himself 
in  triumphant  opposition  to  the  clergy,  he  recklessly 
attacked  their  most  cherished  institutions  ;  to  open  a  pas- 
sage for  his  troops  he  threw  down  their  finest  convent ; 
to  pay  his  soldiery  he  levied  upon  their  treasures.  Yet 
he  trembled  before  their  denunciations, — upon  one  day 
sending  the  bishop  into  exile  ;  on  the  next,  he  cowered  be- 
fore the  meanest  priest  who  threaten;'  him  with  the  Vir- 
gin's ire.  The  terrors  of  excommunication  unncrvec-.  him. 
Scared  hy  his  own  audacitj' ;  unable  to  <[uell  the  stoiin 
he  had  roused;  viewing  with  dismay  the  reaction  ihat 
his  ill-conaldered  boldness  had   created  in  the  uumia  of 


;  :.l  it 


Ii.. 


¥k 


s 


84 


en  ATA  AND   CHINITA. 


a  people  (lominated  by  ghostly  fears,  even  while  they 
groaned  under  the  material  oi)prcssions  of  priestcraft ;  letl 
beyond  his  deptli  by  unscrupulous  counsellors,  or  by  tlioso 
Avlio  like  .Juarez  had  ideas  beyond  the  epoch  in  which  he 
livt'd, — C'onionfort,  while  he  niaintained  a  kingly  state, 
looked  forth  ui)on  the  new  aspect  of  distraction  which  his 
country  wore,  and  vainly  sought  a  method  of  compromise 
to  evoke  order  from  chaos.  lie  who  had  dared  all  pliysi- 
cal  dangers  shrank  before  a  revolution  of  sentiment,  llis 
v.acillating  demeanor  —  above  all  his  conciliations  of  the 
clergy  wiiom  he  had  so  short  a  time  before  defied  —  awoke 
distrust  on  every  hand. 

Such  was  the  political  aspect,  so  far  as  known  at  Tres 
Ilermanos,  upon  the  eve  when  the  first  straggling  band  of 
soldiery  crossed  the  peaceful  valley,  and  its  doors  opened 
to  receive  the  first  of  those  armed  guests,  which  in  the 
near  future  were  to  become  so  numerous  and  so  dreaded. 

In  one  far  corner  of  the  great  house  there  was  a  little 
balcony  with  its  high  ircn  raihng ;  and  behind  it,  scarce 
reaching  to  its  top,  stood  two  chilch'en  on  tip-toe,  looking 
witii  >vide  eyes  upon  the  glory  of  tiie  pur[)ling  mountains, 
and  then  with  mundane  cui'iosity  dropping  them  upon  the 
more  homely  attractions  within  hearing  as  well  as  sight. 
And  upon  that  special  afternoon  in  0(;tober  these  chanced 
to  be  of  a  somewhat  unusual  character ;  for  across  the 
plain  rode  one  of  those  predatory  bands,  which  in  those 
wild  days  sprang  up  like  magic  even  in  the  most  isolated 
regions,  —  the  arid  mountains  and  the  fertile  plains  alike 
furnishing  their  quota  of  material,  which  blindly,  ignor- 
antly,  but  for  that  none  the  less  furiousl}-,  became  sacri- 
fices to  the  ambition  of  a  sc'ore  or  more  contesting  chiefs. 
Yet  amid  the  cni»itlity,  unscrupnlousness,  and  bar])arity 
of  these  chiefs  still  lingered  the  spirit  of  liberty,  which 
though  drenched  in  l)loo(l,  and  bound  down  b}'  ecclesiastical 
as  well  as  military  despotism,  was  yet  to  rise  triiunphant, 
perhaps  after  its  years  of  long  struggle  stronger,  purer, 
holler  than  the  world  before  iiad  known  it. 

l)Ut  license  rather  than  liberty  seemed  to  animate  those 
wild  spirits  who,  invigorated  after  a  long  day's  march  l)y 
1he  sight  of  a  halting  i)lace,  urged  their  steeds  with  wild 
shouts  and  blows  with  the  fiat  side  of  their  sabres,  as  well 


vol 

of 
it  wl 


he 
an( 


ore 

wit 

hin 


CHATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


85 


tlioy 

t;  led 

those 

icli  ho 

sLiitc, 

ich  his 

I'omiso 

physi- 

.     His 

of  the 

awoke 


it  Tres 
land  of 
opened 

in  the 
rcadcd. 
a  little 

scMVce 
look  in  tj; 
nitains, 
pon  the 
s  sight, 
chanced 
ross  the 
n  those 
isolated 
ns  alike 
,  ignor- 
ic  sacri- 
1  chiefs. 
)arl)arity 
>',  which 
isiastical 
mphant, 
;",  purer, 

ite  those 
narch  hy 
nth  wild 
3,  as  well 


as  w 
nlaii 


ith  applications  from  their  clanking  si)ur8,  across  the 
J  scattered  at 


wl 


als 


dit  be 


the 


-»»■■ 


inter' 

y  women,  on  nuu'i  or  donkey 
back,  with  their  cooking  implements  hangi  ig  from  the 
l)auniers  upon  which  they  squatted  in  security  and  com- 
fort, nursing  their  babies  or  (juieting  the  more  fractious 
older  children,  as  the  animals  they  rode  paced  quietly  on 
or  broke  into  a  jog-trot  at  their  own   wills. 

It  was  a  cause  of  great  excitement  and  delight  to  the 
children  in  the  balcony  to  see  the  soldiers  —  most  of  them 
still  arrayed  in  their  ranchero  dress  of  buff  leather,  but 
some  of  them  resplendent  in  blue-and-red  cloth,  with 
stripes  of  gilt  upon  their  arms  and  caps  —  stop  at  the  huts 
along  the  principal  street  or  lane  of  the  village,  and 
laughingly  take  possession,  bitkling  Trinita  and  Francisca 
and  Florencia,  and  the  rest  of  them,  to  go  or  stay  as  it 
pleased  them.  Some  of  the  women  were  frightened  and 
began  to  cr}'  and  bewail,  but  others  found  acquaintances 
among  the  new  arrivals  ;  and  there  was  nuich  laughing  and 
talking,  in  the  midst  ofwhich  two  personages  who  appeared 
to  be  the  leaders  of  the  [)arty,  and  who  were  followed  by 
a  dozen  or  more  comi)anions  and  servants,  rode  up  to  the 
hacienda  gates,  and  one,  scarce!}-  pausing  for  an  answer 
from  the  astonished  Pedro  whom  he  saluted  l)y  name, 
rode  into  the  courtyti'd,  whitlier  he  was  followed  by  the 
gate-keeper,  who  with  stoical  calm  yet  evident  amaze- 
ment saluted  him  as  Don  Vicente  ;  and  holding  his  stirrup 
as  he  dismounted  added  in  a  low  voice,  — 

''TheSninls  defend  us,  Don  Vicente!  The  sight  of 
you  is  like  ruin  in  JNIav,  —  it  will  bless  the  whole  year! 
Heaven  grant  your  followers  leave  untouched  the  harvest 
of  new  maize  !  Don  Ivalacl  would  go  out  of  his  senses  if 
,it  were  broached  and  trami)l{>d  on  liy  this  rabble,  —  begging 
your  (irace's  jjardon  a  thousand  times!" 

Don  Vicente,  as  the  young  man  was  called,  laughed  as 
he  stamped  his  feet  on  tlie  bri(!k  pavement  until  his  spurs 
and  thi!  chains  and  buttons  on  his  riding  suit  clanked 
again,  —  though  he  looked  half  sadly,  half  furtively  around. 

"■  Have  no  fear,  Pedro  good  friend,  the  men  have  their 
orders.  The  Cieneral,  Jost-  Kamirez,  is  not  to  be  trifled 
with  ;  "  and  he  glanced  at  his  companion,  a  man  older  than 
himself,  but  still  in  the  prime  of  life,  who  had  also  dismounted 


I  '■■ 


1  '*' 


I    '1 


.11 ) 


I- 1 


86 


CIIATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


■  ;(' 

if 


and  was  shaking  hands  with  Don  Rafael,  with  many  polite 
expressions  of  pleasure  at  meeting  the  courageous  and 
prudent  adniinistrador  of  Trcs  Ilermanos. 

These  compliments  were  returned  with  rather  pallid 
lips  by  Don  Rafael,  who  however  upon  being  recognized 
by  Don  Vicente,  who  advanced  to  embrace  him  with  the 
cordialit3'  of  a  friend,  though  with  something  of  the  con- 
descension of  a  superior,  regained  his  coiuposure  with  the 
rapidit}'  natural  to  a  man  who  having  fancied  himself  in 
some  peril  finds  himself  under  the  protection  of  a  powerful 
and  generous  patron.  He  hastened  in  the  name  of  Dona 
Isabel  to  place  everything  the  hacienda  contained  at  the 
disposal  of  the  visitors,  luaking  a  mental  reservation  of 
the  new  maize  and  sundry  fine  horses  that  happened  to  bo 
in  the  courtyards. 

Chinita,  who  had  pushed  her  way  through  the  crowd  of 
children  and  half-grown  idlers  that  had  been  attracted  to 
the  court,  and  were  gazing  in  silent  and  opened-mouthcd 
wonderment  and  admiration  at  the  imposing  personage 
called  the  General  Jos6  Ramirez,  was  so  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  half-military^,  half- equestrian  bravery 
of  riding  tiousers  of  stamped  leather  trimmed  with  silver 
buttons,  and  wide  felt  hat  gorgeous  with  gold  and  silver 
cords  and  lace,  his  epauletted  jacket,  and  scarlet  sash 
bristling  with  silver-handled  pistols  and  stillotto,  that  she 
took  no  heed  when  a  servant  came  to  lead  away  the 
charger  upon  which  the  object  of  her  admiration  had  been 
mounted,  and  so  narrowly'  escaped  being  knocked  down 
and  trampled  upon. 

"  Have  a  care  thou  !"  cried  Don  Vicente,  as  he  sprang 
forward  and  clutched  the  child  by  the  arm,  drawing  her  out 
of  danger,  while  a  score  of  voices  —  the  General's  per- 
haps the  most  indifferent  among  them  —  reiterated  epithets 
of  abuse  to  the  servant  and  admonition  to  the  child.  In 
the  midht  of  the  commotion,  Don  Rafael  conducted  the 
two  officers  to  rooms  -which  were  hastilv  assigned  them. 

As  they  disapi)cared,  Chinita's  c  j-es  followed  them.  She 
was  not  especially  grateful  for  her  escape  :  it  was  not  the 
first  time  she  had  been  snatched  from  beneath  tlic  feet  of 
a  restive  horse ;  the  incident  was  natural  enough  to  her, 
jiii'l  perhaps  for  this  reason  her  rescuer  was  not  specially 
in L'.  resting  to  her  mind.      Somewhat  to  her  disgust,  an 


I 


CE.y^A  AND  CIIINITA. 


87 


hour  later,  when  she  had  managed  to  steal  unobserved  into 
the  supper-room,  where  she  crouched  in  a  corner,  she  saw 
Kosario  and  Chata  from  their  seats  at  their  mother's  side 
regarding  the  young  oUiccr  with  amiable  smiles, —  llosario 
with  infantile  coquetry,  drooping  her  long  lashes  demurely 
over  her  soft  dreamy  black  eyes  ;  and  Chata,  with  her  orbs 
of  a  nondescript  gray,  frankly  though  coyly  taking  in  every 
detail  of  his  face  and  dress,  while  they  averted  themselves 
as  if  startled  or  repelled  from  the  dark  countenance  of  his 
companion.  It  might  have  been  thought  that  Dona  Feliz 
shared  her  dread,  for  more  than  once  she  looked  at  the 
General  with  an  expression  of  perplexity  and  aversion,  as 
he  lightly  entertained  Dona  Rita  with  an  account  of  hia 
family  and  his  own  exploits,  —  topics  strangely  chosen 
for  a  Mexican,  but  which  seemed  natural  rather  than 
egotistical  when  lightly  and  wittily  expatiated  upon  by 
this  gay  soldier  of  fortune. 

Meanwhile,  Don  Vicente  Gonzales  was  talking  in  a  low 
voice  to  Doiia  Feliz.  lie  ate  little  and  drank  only  some 
wat3r  mixed  with  red  wine,  while  Don  Rafael  and  the 
General  Ramirez  partook  freely  of  more  generous  stimulants, 
growing  more  talkative  as  the  evening  advanced  ;  and  at 
last,  as  the  ladies  rose  from  the  table,  and  Dona  Rita  went 
with  the  children  to  the  upper  rooms,  the  two  walked 
away  together  to  inspect  the  horses  and  talk  of  the  grand 
reforms  initiated  by  Comonlbrt,  which  in  reality  had  but 
lilled  the  country  with  discontent  and  bloodslied.  The 
poison  of  personal  ambition  was  working  in  the  new  Presi- 
dent slowly  —  as  it  had  done  more  rapidly  in  his  renowned 
predecessor  Santa  Anna — the  change  from  the  i)atriot  to 
the  demagogue,  lie  who  had  talked  and  worked  and 
fought  for  the  liberties  of  Mexico,  dallied  with  the  chains 
he  should  have  broken. 


m 


I 

4. 


'i  '•■Si 


'h'^ 


i 


:!^': 


XIV. 

As  Don  Rafael  in  an  unwonted  state  of  complacency, 
which  drew  the  anxious  eyes  of  his  mother  ui)on  him,  dis- 
ai)pear(.'d  with  his  jovial  guest  tiie  General,  the  younger 
olllccr,  Don  Vicente  Gonzales,  drew  a  long  breath  of  re- 
lief, and  at  a  sign  from  Dona  Feliz  followed  her  to  the 
window,  with  the  half-sombre,  half-expectant  air  of  one 
wlio  is  about  to  speak  of  past  events  with  an  old  and  tried 
friend ;  and  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  he  turned  his 
face  toward  her  with  the  air  and  gesture  which  says  more 
plainl}'  than  words,  "What  have  you  to  tell,  or  ask? 
We  are  alone;  let. us  exchange  confidences." 

In  truth  they  were  not  quite  alone.  Chinita  had  half- 
sulkily,  haU'-defiantly,  crept  after  Dona  P'eliz,  and  had 
sunk  down  in  her  usual  crouching  attitude  within  the 
shadow  of  the  wall.  She  would  have  preferred  to  follow 
Don  Raftiel  and  the  General  in  their  rounds,  but  she  knew 
that  was  impracticable ;  Pedro  would  have  stopped  her 
at  tlie  gate,  and  sent  her  to  Florencia,  or  kept  her  close 
beside  him,  —  and  so  even  the  inferior  pleasure  of  seeing 
and  listening  to  the  less  attractive  stranger  would  have 
been  denied  her.  Chinita  was  an  imaginative  child ;  she 
used  sometimes  to  stand  upon  the  balcony_  with  Chata, 
and  gaze  and  gaze  far  away  into  the  blue  which  seemed 
to  lie  beyond  the  farthest  hills,  and  wonder  vaguely  what 
strange  creatures  lived  there.  Sometimes  her  wild  ima- 
gination pictured  such  uncouth  monsters,  such  terrifying 
shapes,  that  she  herself  was  seized  with  nervous  trem- 
blings, and  Cliata  and  Rosario  would  clasp  each  other  and 
cry  out  in  fright ;  but  oftcner  she  peopled  that  world  with 
cavaliers  such  as  she  had  occasional!}'  seen,  and  stately 
dames  sucli  as  she  imagined  Dona  Isabel  and  the  niila 
Ilerliiula  must  be,  —  for  the  accudcntal  mention  of  those 
names  was  as  jiotcnt  as  would  have  been  the  smoke  of 
opium  to  fill  her  bruin  with  dreams.      By  the  sight  of 


CHATA   AND   C/fhV/TA. 


89 


laccncy, 
iin,  (lis- 
punger 
1  of  re- 
[•  to  the 
•  of  one 
!id  tried 
•ncd  his 
ys  more 
or  ask? 

ad  half- 
md  had 
thin  the 

0  follow 
he  knew 
pcd  her 
ler  close 

seeing 
lid  have 
ild ;  she 

1  Chata, 
seemed 

ely  what 
ild  ima- 
jrrifying 
us  trem- 
thcr  and 
)rld  with 
I  stately 
he  nina 
of  those 
moke  of 
bight  of 


Don  Josi';  Ramirez  in  hia  picturesque  apparel,  part  of  those 
vague  dreams  seemed  realized  ;  and  even  the  (juiet  flgurti 
of  Don  Vicente  and  the  sound  of  his  stranger  voice  had 
tlio  charm  of  novelty.  She  placed  herself  where  she  could 
best  see  his  face,  with  infantile  philosophy  contenting  lua- 
self  with  the  next  best  where  the  actual  pleasure  desired 
was  unattainable.  She  was  ver}'  quiet;  fov  she  had  natur- 
ally the  Indian  stcalthincss  of  moveraont,  and  she  had 
besides  a  vague  instin'^t  that  lier  presence  upon  the  cor- 
ridor might  be  forbid.icn.  Still  she  did  not  feel  herself 
in  any  sense  an  intruder ;  she  folt  as  a  petted  animal 
may  be  supposed  to  do,  that  she  1m  I  a  perfect  right  in 
any  spot  from  wliidi  she  was  not  Jnven. 

13ut  as  Dona  Feliz  and  the  new-comer  wore  long  silent, 
she  became  impatient,  and  half-resolved  to  settle  herself 
to  sleep  there  and  then.  She  had  drawn  her  feet  under 
her,  covering  them  with  the  ragged  edges  of  her  skirt, 
and  drawing  her  scarf  over  her  head  and  shoulders, 
tightly  over  the  arms  which  clasped  her  knee,  looked  out 
as  from  a  little  tent,  and  inotead  of  sleeping  became  grad- 
uall}'  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  the  face  and  ligure 
which,  when  seen  beside  those  of  the  dashing  Ramirez, 
bad  appeared  gloomy  and  insignificant.  The  young  man 
was  dressed  in  black ;  the  close-fitting  riding  trousers, 
the  short  round  jacket,  the  wide  hat,  which  now  lay  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  being  relieved  only  by  a  scanty  supply 
of  silver  buttons,  —  a  contrast  to  the  usual  lavishness  of  a 
young  cavalier  ;  and  in  its  severe  outlines  and  its  expres- 
sion of  gloom,  his  lace,  as  he  sat  in  the  moonlight,  was  in 
entire  harmony  with  his  dress.  How  rigid  looked  the 
clear-cut  profile  against  the  dead  whiteness  of  the  colunm 
against  which  it  rested,  his  close-cropped  head  framed  in 
bhick,  his  youthful  brow  corrugated  in  painful  thought. 
Suddenly  he  lifted  the  dark  eyes  which  had  rested  upon 
Dona  Feliz,  and  turned  them  on  the  fountain  which 
was  splashing  within  the  circle  of  ilowering  plants  and 
murmured :  — 

"  I  feci  as  though  in  a  dream.  Is  it  possible  I  am  hero, 
and  she  is  gone,  gone  forever?  How  often  I  have  seen 
her  by  the  side  of  the  fountain,  raising  herself  upon  the 
jutting  stone-work  to  pluck  the  red  geraniums  and  place 
them  in  her  hair !     Even  .when  I  was  a  boy  her  pretty  un- 


U 


m 


*-." 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


1.0    !P 


I.I 


1.25 


Ik    1125 


1^  1^ 


^  Illlli4 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


i^  w^. 


U. 


% 


I ',  ■^^  ■ 


rr 


90 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


studied  ways  delighted  me,  —  and  Ilerlinda  as  naturally  as 
slie  breathed  acted  her  dainty  coquetriv-s.  And  to  fancy 
now  that  all  that  grace  and  beauty  is  lost  to  me,  to  the 
world,  forever !  that  she  is  sacrificed  —  buried  !  " 

He  spoke  bitterly  and  sighed,  yet  with  that  tone  of 
renunciation  which  more  completely  than  to  death  itself, 
marks  the  voices  of  the  children  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
as  they  yield  their  loved  ones  to  her  cloisters.  It  was  in 
the  voice  of  Dona  Feliz,  as  she  presently  replied,  — 

"  It  seems  indeed  a  strange  destiny  for  so  bright  a  life ; 
but  against  the  call  of  religion  we  cannot  murmur,  Vicente. 
Many  and  great  have  been  the  sins  of  the  Garcias.  May 
Herlinda's  prayers,  her  vigils,  her  tears  condone  them !  '* 
She  crossed  herself  and  sighed  heavily. 

*'I  cannot  accept  even  the  inevitable  so  calml}',"  cried 
the  young  man  in  sudden  passion.  "I  loved  her  from 
a  child ;  I  never  had  a  thought  but  for  her !  She  was 
promised  me  when  we  were  boy  and  girl !  She  used  to 
tease  me,  saying  she  hated  me,  and  then  with  a  soft 
glance  of  her  dark  eyes  disarmed  my  anger.  She  would 
thrust  me  from  her  with  her  tiny  foot,  and  then  draw  me 
to  her  with  one  slender  finger  hooked  in  the  dangling 
chain  of  a  jacket  button,  and  laughingl}'  promise  to  be 
good,  breaking  her  word  the  next  moment.  She  would 
taunt  me  when  I  sprang  toward  her  in  alarm  as  she 
leaped  from  the  fountain  parapet,  and  in  turn  would  cry 
out  in  agonies  of  fright  as  I  hung  from  the  highest  boughs 
of  the  garden  trees,  or  when  I  clashed  by  her  on  the  back 
of  a  half-broken  horse,  stopping  him  or  throwing  him  per- 
haps on  his  haunches,  with  one  turn  of  the  cruel  bit. 
Through  all  her  vagaries  I  loved  her,  and  perhaps  the 
more  because  of  them  ;  and  I  fancied  she  loved  me.  Even 
later,  when  she  had  grown  more  formal  and  I  more  ardent, 
I  believed  that  her  coy  repulses  were  but  maiden  arts  to 
win  me  on." 

"  I  always  told  Dona  Isabel,"  interrupted  Feliz,  "  that 
such  freedom  of  intercourse  between  youth  and  maiden 
would  but  lead  to  weariness  on  one  side  or  the  other.  But 
she  was  a  hater  of  old  customs.  She  said  there  was  more 
danger  in  two  glances  exchanged  from  the  pavement  and 
the  balcony  than  in  hours  of  such  youthful  chat  and 
frolic." 


IS 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


91 


*' Yot  this  freedom  was  designed  to  bind  our  hearts  to- 
gether," said  Vicente.  "  The  wish  of  Dona  Isabel's  heart 
for  years  was  to  see  us  one  day  man  and  wife.  Yet  she 
changed  as  suddenly  —  more  suddenly  and  completely 
than  Herlinda  did.  What  is  the  secret?  Is  not  Tres 
Hermanos  productive  enough  to  provide  dowers  for  two 
daughters  ?  Is  all  this  to  be  centred  on  Carmen  ?  Rich 
men  have  immured  their  daughters  in  convents  to  leave 
their  wealth  undivided.    Can  it  be  that  Dofia  Isabel  —  " 

"Be  silent!"  interrupted  Dofia  Feliz,  as  she  might 
have  done  to  a  foolish  child.  "Let  us  talk  no  more  of 
Herlinda,  Vicente ;  it  makes  my  heart  sore,  and  can  but 
torture  thine." 

"  No,  it  relieves  me  ;  it  soothes  me,"  cried  Vicente.  "  I 
have  longed  to  come  here  to  talk  to  you.  Dona  Isabel  is 
unapproachable.  She  has  relapsed  once  more  into  the  icy 
impenetrability  that  characterized  her  in  that  terrible  time 
so  many  years  ago.     I  can  just  remember  —  " 

"  Let  the  dead  ix'st,"  cried  Dofia  Feliz,  sharply.  "  That 
is  a  forbidden  subject  in  Doiia  Isabel's  house.  You  are 
her  guest." 

Vicente  accepted  the  reproof  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoul- 
ders, and  Doiia  Feliz  added,  as  if  at  once  to  turn  his 
thoughts  and  afford  the  sympathy  he  craved,  "  Talk  to  me 
then,  if  you  will,  of  Herlinda.  Do  you  know  where  she 
is  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  Lagos,  in  that  dreariest  of  prisons  the  con- 
vent of  Our  Lady  of  Tribulation.  Think  you  Maria  San- 
tisima  can  desire  such  scourgiugs,  such  long  fastings, 
such  interminable  vigils  as  they  saj'  are  practised  there  ? 
God  grant  the  scoffers  are  right,  and  that  the  reputed  self- 
immolations  are  but  imaginings,  —  tales  of  the  priests  to 
attract  richer  offerings  to  the  Church  shrine.  When  I  saw 
it,  it  was  groaning  beneath  vessels  of  gold  and  silver  and 
wreaths  of  jewels.  Oh,  Feliz  !  Feliz  !  higher  and  heavier 
than  the  treasures  they  pile  on  their  altars  are  the  woes 
these  monks  and  nuns  accumulate  upon  our  devoted 
countr}' !  " 

Doiia  Feliz  glanced  around  waril}^  but  an  expression  of 
genuine  acquiescence  gleamed  from  her  ej-es. 

"  You  are  where  I  have  always  hoped  to  see  j'ou,"  she 
said  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  but  beware  of  a  too  indiscriminate 


92 


CHATA   AND  QHINITA. 


zeal.  They  saj'  Comonfort  himself  has  been  too  hasty, 
must  draw  back  —  retract  —  *' 

''Retract!"  cried  Vicente.  "Never!  Down,  I  say, 
with  these  tyrants  in  priestly  garments,  —  these  robbers  in 
the  guise  of  saints  I  The  land  is  overrun  with  them ;  their 
dwellings  rise  in  hundreds  in  the  sunlight  of  prosperit}^ 
and  the  hovels  of  the  poor  are  covered  in  the  darkness  of 
their  oppressions.  The  finest  lands,  the  richest  mines,  the 
wealth  of  whole  families  have  passed  into  their  cunning 
and  grasping  hands.  There  is  no  right,  either  temporal 
or  spiiitual,  but  is  controlled  b}'  them.  Better  let  us  be 
lost  eternally  than  be  saved  by  such  a  clergy.  What, 
saved  by  bull-baiters,  cock-fighters,  the  deluders  of  the 
widow  and  orphan,  the  oppressors  of  the  poor ! " 

"  You  are  bitter  and  unjust,"  interrupted  Dona  Fcliz  ; 
"remember,  too,  the  base  ministers  of  the  Church  take 
nothing  from  the  sanctity  of  her  ordinances." 


"So  be  it,"  answered  Vicente, 
with  a  short  laugh,  "you  think 


"  Perhai^s,"  he  added, 


a  snort  laugn,  "you  tnmK  I  have  lost  m^'^  senses. 
No,  no ;  but  my  personal  loss  has  quickened  my  sense  of 
public  wrongs.  In  losing  Herlinda,  1  lost  all  that  held  me 
to  the  past,  —  old  superstitions,  old  deceptions.  The  idle 
boyish  life  died  then,  and  up  sprang  the  discontented,  far- 
seeing,  turbulent  new  spirit  which  spurns  old  dogmas, 
breaks  old  chains,  and  cries  for  freedom." 

Vicente  had  risen  to  his  feet ;  his  face  lighted  with  en- 
thusiasm ;  his  pain  was  for  a  moment  forgotten.  The 
listening  child  felt  a  glow  at  her  heart,  though  his  words 
were  as  Greek  to  her.  Dofia  Feliz  thrilled  with  a  purer, 
more  reasonable  longing  for  that  liberty  which  as  a  child 
she  had  heard  proclaimed,  but  which  had  flitted  mockingly 
above  hei  country,  refusing  to  touch  its  ground.  Her 
enthusiasm  kindled  at  that  of  the  3'oung  man,  though 
his  sprung  from  bitterness.  How  many  enthusiasms 
own  the  same  origin !  Sweetness  and  content  produce 
no  frantic  dissatisfactions,  no  daring  aims,  no  conquering 
endeavors. 

"  You  belie  j'ourself,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "  It  is 
not  merely  the  bitterness  of  j'our  heart  which  has  made 
you  a  patriot.  The  needs,  the  wrongs,  the  aspirations  of 
the  time  have  aroused  jou.  Had  Herlinda  been  yours,  3'ou 
still  must  have  listened  to  those  voices.     With  such  men 


CHAT  A  AND  CIJINITA. 


93 


too  hasty, 

wn,  I  say, 
I  robbers  in 
;hem;  their 

prosperitj'^, 
[iarkness  of 

mines,  the 
3ir  cunning 
3r  temporal 
jr  let  us  be 
y.  What, 
ders  of  the 

Dona  Feliz ; 
!hurch  take 

"  he  added, 
in}'  senses, 
my  sense  of 
hat  held  rae 
s.  The  idle 
ntentcd,  far- 
Id   dogmas, 

ted  with  en- 
atten.  The 
rh  his  words 
irith  a  purer, 
3h  as  a  child 
d  mockingly 
round.  Her 
nan,  though 
enthusiasms 
cnt  produce 
a  conquering 


use. 


(( 


It  is 


ch  has  made 
,spirations  of 
sn  yours,  j'ou 
ith  such  men 


as  you  at  his  call,  Comonfort  should  not  falter.  The  cause 
he  espoused  must  triumph." 

"  Humph !  "  muttered  Vicente,  doubtfully,  while  Feliz, 
with  a  sudden  qualm  at  her  outspoken  approbation  of 
measures  subversive  of  an  authority  that  her  training  had 
made  her  believe  sanctioned  by  heaven  cried :  — 

"Ave  Maria  Santisima!  what  have  I  said?  In  blam- 
ing, in  casting  reproach  upon  the  clergy,  am  I  not  cast- 
ing mud  upon  our  Holy  Mother  the  Church  ?  " 

"  Feliz  ! "  cried  Vicente,  impatiently,  "  that  question  too 
asks  Comonfort.  Such  irrational  fears  as  these  arc  the  real 
foes  of  progress ;  and  so  deeply  are  old  prejudices  and  su- 
perstitions rooted,  that  they  find  a  place  in  every  heart ; 
no  matter  how  powerful  the  intellect,  how  clear  the  com- 
prehension of  the  political  situation,  how  scrupulous  or 
unscrupulous  the  conscience,  the  same  ghostly  fears  hang 
over  all.  What  spells  have  those  monks  with  their  oppres- 
sions and  their  shameless  lives  thrown  over  us  that  we 
have  been  wax  in  their  hands  ?  Think  of  j'our  own  father, 
—  a  man  of  [)arts,  generous,  lofty-minded,  but  a  fanatic. 
He  shunned  the  monto  table,  the  bull-fight,  and  all  such 
costly  sports  as  the  hacenderos  love ;  he  almost  lived  in 
the  Church.  But  that  could  not  keep  misfortune  from  his 
door :  his  cattle  died  ;  his  horses  were  driven  away  in  the 
revolution  ;  his  fields  were  devastated ;  and  he  was  forced 
to  borrow  money  on  his  lands.  And  to  whom  should  ho 
look  but  the  clergy,  —  who  so  eager  to  lend,  who  so  suave 
.1-nd  kind  as  they  ?  And  when  he  was  in  the  snare,  who  so 
pitiless  in  winding  it  around  and  about  him,  strangling, 
withering  his  life  ?  " 

"  But,  Vicente,"  said  Feliz,  in  a  hard,  embittered  voice, 
"  in  our  lot  there  was  a  show  of  justice.  If  you  would 
have  a  more  unmitigated  use  of  pitiless  craft,  think  of  the 
fate  of  your  own  cousin  Inez." 

The  child  within  the  shadow  of  the  wall  was  listening 
breathlessly.  Her  innate  rebellion  against  all  authority 
made  her  quick  to  grasp  the  situation ;  a  secret  detesta- 
tion of  the  coarse-handed,  loud-voiced  village  priest  who 
had  succeeded  Padre  Francisco  at  Tres  Herraanos  quick- 
ened her  apprehension.  She  looked  at  Vicente  with  glisi;- 
ening  eyes.  "  Ah,  well  I  remember  poor  Inez,"  he  said  ; 
"  forced  by  her  father  to  become  a  nun,  that  at  his  death 


94 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


|i  :i 


I 


ho  might  win  pardon  for  his  soul  by  satisfj-ing  the  greed  of 
his  councillors,  she  implored,  wept,  raved,  fell  into  imbecil- 
ity, and  died ;  and  her  sad  story,  penetrating  even  the 
thickness  of  convent  walls,  was  blackened  by  the  assertion 
that  she  was  possessed  of  devils  foul  arid  unclean, — she, 
the  whitest,  purest  soul  that  ever  stood  before  the  gates 
of  heaven." 

His  voice  choked ;  he  was  silent  and  sank  again  into  his 
chair.  "  And  Coraonfort,"  he  muttered  prep'mtly,  "  strives 
to  conciliate  wretches  such  as  these.  He  \z  a  man,  Feliz, 
who  with  all  his  courage  believes  a  poor  compromise  bet- 
ter than  a  long  fight.  Ah,  the  world  believes  Mexicans 
savage,  unappeasable,  blood-thirsty.  How  can  they  be 
otherwise  with  these  blind  leaders  who  precipitate  them 
into  those  ditches  which  they  fondly  hope  will  prove  roads 
to  liberty  and  peace  !  " 

Feliz  looked  at  him  with  disquietude.  "  What,  Vi- 
cente," she  said,  "  are  you  a  man  to  be  blown  about  by 
evory  wind,  —  a  mere  ordinary  revolutionist  seeking  a  new 
chief  for  each  fresh  battle  ?  " 

Vicente  flushed  at  the  insinuation.  *'  One  cause  and  a 
tJiousand  chiefs  if  need  be,"  he  said.  "  But  there  is  now 
a  man  in  Mexico,  Feliz,  who  must  inevitably  become  the 
head  of  this  movement,  —  who,  like  the  cause,  will  remain 
the  same  through  all  mischances.  To-day  he  is  the  friend 
of  Comonfort,  but  who  knows  ?    To-morrow  —  " 

"  He  may  be  his  enemy,"  ejaculated  Feliz.  "  I  wonder 
if  in  all  this  land  there  can  be  found  one  man  who  can 
be  faithful ! " 

"To-morrow,"  said  Vicente,  completing  his  sentence, 
"  he  may  be  the  friend  and  leader  of  all  the  lovers  of  free- 
dom in  Mexico;  and  if  so,  my  leader.  I  have  talked 
with  that  man,  and  he  sees  to  the  farthest  ramifications  of 
this  great  canker  that  is  eating  out  the  very  vitals  of  our 
land.  You  will  hear  of  him  soon,  Feliz,  if  you  have  not 
done  so  already.    His  name  is  Benito  Juarez." 

Feliz  smiled.  "What,  tha<;  Indian?"  she  said.  "It 
is  a  new  thing  for  a  gentleman  of  pure  Spanish  blood  to 
choose  such  a  leader.  Ah,  Vicente,  you  disappoint  me ! 
It  must  be  this  Ramirez,  who  has  in  his  every  movement 
the  air  of  a  guerilla,  a  free- fighter,  who  has  infected 
you." 


[Ill 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


95 


"  No,"  answered  Vicente,  sullenly,  '*  Ramirez  has  no  in- 
fluence over  me ;  only  the  fortune  of  war  has  thrown  us 
together,  —  a  blustering  fellow  on  the  surface,  but  so  deep, 
so  astute,  that  none  can  fathom  him.  He  is  not  the  man 
I  could  make  my  friend." 

"  Where  does  he  come  from?  "  asked  Dona  Feliz  with 
interest.  "  There  is  something  familiar  to  me  in  his  voice 
or  expression." 

*'  A  mere  fancy  on  3'our  part,"  answered  Vicente ;  "just 
such  a  fancy  as  makes  me  glance  at  him  sometimes  as  ho 
rides  silent  at  my  side,  and  with  a  sudden  start  clap  my 
hand  upon  my  sword.  I  have  an  instinctive  dread  of  him, 
—  not  a  fear,  but  such  a  dread  as  I  have  of  a  deadly  rei> 
tile.  I  wonder,"  he  added  gloomily,  "if  it  is  to  be  my  fate 
to  take  his  life." 

Feliz  shuddered.     Chinita's  ej^es  flashed. 

'*  And  yet  once  I  saved  him,  when  we  were  fighting 
against  the  guerillas  of  Ortiz.  He  was  caught  in  a  defile 
of  the  mountains ;  four  assailants  dashed  upon  him  at 
once  with  exultant  cries ;  and  though  he  fought  gallantly, 
had  I  not  rushed  to  the  rescue  he  must  have  been  killed 
there.  Together  we  beat  the  villains  off,  and  he  fancies 
he  owes  me  some  thanks ;  and  perhaps  too  I  have  some 
kindness  for  the  man  I  saved,  —  and  yet  there  are  times 
when  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  look  upon  him." 

"  Strange !  strange  indeed !  "  said  Dofia  Feliz,  musingly. 
"  I  have  heard  his  name  before.  Is  he  not  the  man  who 
stopped  the  train  of  wagons  by  which  the  merchants  of 
Guanapila  were  despatching  funds  to  make  their  foreign 
payments,  and  who  took  fifty  thousand  dollars  or  more  to 
pay  his  troops  ?  " 

"The  same,"  answered  Vicente;  "and  those  troops 
were  reinforced  by  a  chain-gang  he  had  released  the  day 
before,  —  vile  miscreants  every  one.  We  quarrelled  over 
each  of  these  acts ;  but  he  laughed  us  all  —  the  merchants, 
the  government,  myself —  into  good-humor  again.  He  is 
one  of  those  anomalies  one  detests,  and  admires,  —  crafty, 
daring,  licentious,  superstitious,  yielding,  cruel,  all  in  turn 
and  when  least  expected.  He  will  rob  a  city  with  one 
hand,  and  feed  the  poor  or  enrich  a  church  with  the  other. 
But  here  he  comes !  " 

The  man  thus  spoken  of  was,  indeed,  crossing  the  court 


mBBTs:*nstm 


.ill! 


il! 


!     ( 


96 


CHATA  AND   tlllNITA. 


with  Don  Rafael,  who  seemed  to  reel  slightly  in  his  walk, 
and  was  laughing  and  talking  volubly.  "Yes,  yes,"  he 
was  saying,  as  he  came  within  hearing,  "you  are  right, 
Senor  Don  Jose  ;  the  herd  of  brood  mares  of  Tres  Herma- 
nos  is  the  finest  in  the  country.  There  are  more  than  a 
hundred  well-broken  horses  in  the  pasture,  besides  scores 
upon  scores  that  no  man  has  crossed.  I  sent  a  hundred  and 
lift}'  to  Don  Julian  a  month  ago.  Dona  Isabel  begrudges 
nothing  to  the  cause  of  liberty." 

"  Then  I  will  take  the  other  huiidrcd  to-morrow,"  said 
Ramirez,  lightly.  Don  Rafael  stared  at  him  blankly. 
There  was  something  in  the  General's  face  that  almost 
sobered  him.     The  countenance  of  Gonzales  da"kened. 

"  Believe  me,  Seiior  Comonfort  shall  know  of  3'our  good- 
will, and  that  of  the  excellent  lady  Dona  Isabel,"  con- 
tinued Ramirez,  suavely.  '■  She  will  lose  nothing  by  the 
complacency  of  her  adminisi  rador,"  and  as  he  \^poke,  he 
smiled  half  indulgently,  half  contemptuou'^!ly,  upon  Don 
Rafael. 

"  You  promised  me  thai  here  at  least  no  seizures  should 
be  made,"  exclaimed  Don  Vicente,  in  a  low  indignant 
voice,  hot  with  the  thought  that  even  the  men  he  had  him- 
self mustered  and  commanded  were  so  utterly  under  the 
spell  of  Ramirez  that  upon  any  disagreement  they  were 
likely  to  shift  their  allef.iance,  —  for  those  free  companies 
were  even  less  to  be  depended  upon  than  the  ca.^'.y  re- 
bellious regulars. 

"There  have  been  no  seizures,  nor  will  there  be,"  an- 
swered the  General,  laughing.  "  Don  Rafael  and  I  have 
been  talking  together  as  friends  and  brothers ;  he  has 
told  me  of  his  amiable  family,  and  I  him  of  my  foot- 
sore troops." 

Vicente,  silenced  but  enraged,  glared  upon  Ramirez  as 
he  bade  farewell  to  Dona  Feliz.  As  he  took  her  hand,  he 
bent  and  lightly  kissed  it.  The  action  was  a  common  one, 
—  Doiia  Feliz  scarcely  noticed  it;  her  eyes  rested  upon 
her  son,  who  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the  other, 
his  garrulity  checked,  his  gaze  confused  and  alarmed. 

"  We  shall  be  gone  at  dnybreak.  You  will  be  glad  to 
be  rid  of  us,"  the  (xeneral  said  laughingly;  "  yet  we  are 
innocent  folk,  and  would  do  ,you  no  harm.  Hark !  how 
sweetly  our  followers  are   singing,"  —  and,  indeed,  the 


CHATA'AND  CHINITA. 


97 


n  his  walk, 
8,  yes  " 


"  he 


I  are  right, 
res  Herma- 
loro  than  a 
ides  scores 
undred  and 
1  begrudges 

)rrow,"  said 
m  blankly, 
that  almost 
a"kened. 
r  your  good- 
sabel,"  con- 
ihing  by  the 
le  :spoke,  he 
,  upon  Don 

izures  should 
w  indignant 
he  had  him- 
ly  under  the 
it  they  were 
;e  companies 
he  cu.-*' y  re- 

lere  be,"  an- 
il and  I  have 
lers;  he  has 
of  ^ny  foot- 

1  Ramirez  as 
her  hand,  he 
common  one, 
rested  upon 
tf>  the  other, 
alarmed, 
rili  be  glad  to 
"  yet  we  are 
Hark!  how 
indeed,  the 


plaintive  notes  of  a  love  ditty  faintly  floated  on  the  air, 
"  My  adieus  to  the  Sefiora  de  Sanchez  and  her  lovely 
children." 

While  the  General  spoke  thus,  with  many  low  jows  and 
formal  words  of  parting,  h'^  wus,  quite  in  the  shadow  of 
the  wall.  Do3a  Feliz  could  jcai'ce  see  his  face,  but  Chi- 
nitu's  eyes  never  left  it.  As  he  turned  away,  a  sob  rose 
in  her  throat;  but  for  a  sudden  fear,  she  would  have 
d-^rtod  after  him.  Her  blood  seemed  afire.  There  was 
sonic i-hing  in  the  very  atmosphere  stirred  by  this  man  that 
roused  'ler  wild  nature,  even  as  the  advent  of  its  fellow 
casts  an  admonishing  scent  upon  the  air  breathed  by  some 
savage  beast. 

Don  Rafael  stole  away  to  bed,  but  Don  Vicente  and 
Dona  Feliz  continued  their  interrupted  conversation  far 
into  the  night.  Chinita  sat  in  the  same  place,  and  slum- 
bered fitfully,  and  dreamed.  All  through  her  dreams 
sounded  the  voice  of  the  General  Ramirez ;  all  through 
her  dreams  Gonzales  followed  him,  with  hand  upon  his 
sword. 

It  was  near  morhing,  when  at  last  the  child  awoke, 
chilled  and  stiff,  and  found  herself  alone  in  the  corridor. 
The  moon  had  sunk,  and  onlj'  the  faint  light  of  the  stars 
shone  on  the  vast  and  silent  building;  but  she  was  not 
afraid.  She  was  used  to  dropping  asleep,  as  did  others  of 
the  peasant  class,  where  best  it  suited  her,  and  at  best 
her  softest  bed  was  a  sheep-skin,  She  sleepily  crept  to 
the  most  sheltered  part  of  the  corridor  and  slept  again. 
But  the  stony  pillow  invited  to  no  lengthy  repose ;  and 
when  the  dawn  broke,  the  sound  of  movement  in  the 
outer  court  quickly  roused  her,  and  she  ran  out  just  in 
time  to  see  the  oflficers  hastily  swallowing  their  chocolate, 
while  Don  Rafael,  Pedro,  and  a  crowd  of  laborers,  shiver- 
ing in  their  jorongos^  were  looking  on,  while  the  sumpter 
mules  were  being  laden.  At  the  village,  the  camp  women 
were  already  making  their  shrill  adieus,  taking  their  de- 
lurture  upon  sorry  beasts,  laden  with  screeching  chickens, 
grunting  young  pigs,  and  handfuls  of  rice,  coffee,  chile,  or 
whatever  edibles  they  had  been  able  to  filch  or  beg,  tied  in 
scraps  of  cloth  and  hung  from  their  wide  panniers,  where 
the  children  were  perched  at  imminent  risk  of  losing  their 
balance  and  breaking  their  brown  necks.      It  was  not 


98 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


I     I 


[1; 


It 


i 


known,  however,  that  such  accidents  had  ever  happened, 
and  the  women  jogged  merrily  away,  to  fail  into  the  rear 
when  outstripped  hy  their  better  mounted  lords. 

Don  Rafael  wore  a  gloomy  face.  A  squad  of  soldiers 
had  already  been  despatched  for  the  horses ;  his  own 
herders  were  lassooing  them  in  the  pastures,  and  they 
were  presently  driven  past  the  hacienda  gates,  plunging 
and  snorting.  He  felt  that  had  he  not  in  Dofia  Isabel's 
name  yielded  them,  they  would  have  been  forcibly  seized ; 
yet  his  conscience  troubled  him.  The  night  before  he  had 
drunk  too  much ;  the  wine  had  strangely  affected  him,  — 
he  had  been  maudlin  and  garrulous.  These  were  times 
when  no  prudent  man  should  talk  unnecessarily,  and  es- 
pe(;ially  to  such  a  listener  as  the  adventurer  General  Jose 
Ramirez. 

The  neighing  and  whinnying  of  the  horses,  the  hollow 
ringing  of  their  unshod  hoofs  upon  the  road-way,  the 
shouts  of  the  men,  the  shrill  voices  of  the  women,  all 
combined  to  fill  the  air  with  unwonted  sounds,  and 
brought  the  family  of  the  administrador  early  from  their 
beds.  As  Vicente  Gonzales,  after  shaking  hands  coldly 
with  Don  Rafael,  rode  awa^'^  at  the  head  of  his  band,  he 
half  turned  in  his  saddle  to  glance  at  Dona  Isabel's  bal- 
cony. At  the  rear  of  the  house,  a  faint  glow  was  begin- 
ning to  steal  up  the  sky  and  touch  the  tops  of  the  trees 
which  rose  above  the  garden  wall,  and  tinge  with  opal 
the  square  towers  of  the  church  ;  he  remembered  the  good 
Padre  Francisco,  and  piously  breathed  a  prayer  for  his 
soul.  The  drooping  rose  on  the  balcony  of  what  he  knew 
to  be  Doiia  Isabel's  chamber  seemed  the  very  emblem  of 
death  and  desolation.  With  a  sigh  he  pulled  his  hat  over 
his  eyes  and  rode  on  ;  but  the  General,  Joso  Ramirez,  who 
had  been  longer  in  his  adieus,  caught  sight  of  Doiia  Rita 
in  the  corner  balcony,  leaning  over  her  two  half-dressed 
children.  Their  two  heads  were  close  together,  their  laugh- 
ing faces  side  by  side,  their  four  eyes  making  points  of 
dancing  light  behind  the  black  bars  of  the  balcony  railing. 
Don  Jos(^  Ramirez  was  in  a  gentle  mood  ;  a  sudden  im- 
pulse seized  him  to  turn  his  horse  and  ride  close  to  the 
building,  turning  his  eyes  searchingly  upon  the  children. 
Both  coquettish ly  turned  their  faces  away.  Rosario  cov- 
ered her  eyes  with  her  fingers,  glancing  <:'oyly  through 


CIIATA   AND  CHINITA. 


99 


them  j  then  kissing  tlio  tips  of  tlic  other  hand,  oponod 
tliom  liglitly  above  liiiii  in  un  inmi^iiiury  shower  of  kisses. 
No  goddess  could  have  spiiukied  theuj  more  deftly  lluin 
did  this  infantine  coquette. 

Ramirez  answered  tlie  salute  laughingly,  then  turned 
away  with  a  frown  on  his  brow.  The  slight  tlelay  had  Icl't 
him  behind  the  troop,  amid  the  dust  of  the  restive  horses. 
Yet  he  made  no  haste  to  escape  the  inconvenience,  but 
yielding  for  the  moment  to  some  absorbing  thought  rode 
slowly.  The  voice  of  a  child  suddenly  caused  him  to 
arrest  his  horse  with  an  ungentle  hand.  lie  looked 
around  him  with  a  start,  —  an  object  indistinctly  seen 
under  a  mesqnitc  tree  caused  his  heart  to  bound.  The 
blood  left  his  cheek,  he  shook  in  his  saddle.  His  horse, 
as  staitled  as  he,  bounded  in  the  air,  and  trembled  in 
every  limb.  A  moment  later  and  Jose  Ramirez  laughed 
aloud.  His  name  was  repeated.  "What  do  you  there, 
child?"  he  cried  ;  "  thou  art  a  witch,  and  hast  frightened 
my  horse.  And  by  my  patron  saint,"  he  added  in  a 
lower  tone,  "I  was  startled  myself!" 

Chinita  the  foundling  came  forward  calmly,  though  her 
skirt  was  in  tatters,  and  her  draggled  scarf  scarce  covered 
her  shoulders ;  but  there  was  an  air  about  her  as  if  she  had 
been  dressed  in  imperial  robes.  •'  Ah !  "  she  said  quite 
calmly,  "it  is  the  smell  of  the  blood  that  has  startled 
your  horse  ;  they  say  no  animal  passes  here  without  shying 
and  plunging,  since  the  American  was  killed !  " 

Ramirez  glanced  around  him  with  wild  eyes.  "  Oh, 
you  cannot  see  him  now,"  cried  the  child ;  *'that  happened 
long  ago.  No,  no,  there  is  nothing  here  that  will  hurt 
3'ou.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?  It  is  not  I  —  a 
poor  little  girl  —  who  could  injure  3'ou,  but  men  like 
those,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  columns  of  soldiers  whoso 
baj'onets  were  gUstening  in  the  rising  sun.  Her  eye 
seemed  to  single  out  Gonzales,  though  he  was  beyond  her 
vision.  The  thought  of  Ramirez  perchanoe  followed  hers, 
jet  he  only  sat  and  stared  at  her,  his  eyes  fixed,  his  body 
shrunken  and  bowed. 

"  See  here,"  she  said  slowly,  raising  herself  on  tiptoe, 
and  with  eager  hand  drawing  something  from  beneath  her 
clothing,  "I  have  a  charm  of  jet:  Pedro  put  it  on  my 
neck  when  I  was  a  baby.    It  will  ward  olf  the  evil  eye. 


rf 


V 


1 

i 

1 

i'r 

i 

1 

*r! 

:]■) 

';!           i   'i'tl 

1; 

i 

1 

1 

1     i 

) 

Hh 

1 

(i 

100 


C//ArA  AMD  CIIINITA, 


Take  it ;  wear  it.  An  old  man  gave  it  to  Pedro  on  Lis 
deatli-bcU  ;  he  hud  been  a  Huldier,  a  highwayman  ;  he  had 
fought  many  battles,  killud  many  men,  yet  had  never  had  a 
wound  I  Take  it !  "  8he  took  from  her  neck  a  tiny  bit 
of  jet,  hanging  from  a  hempen  string,  and  thrust  it  into 
his  hand. 

Uamircz  was  astounded.  He  looked  upon  her  as  a 
vision  from  another  world,  —  he  who  was  accustomed  to 
outbursts  of  strange  eloquence,  even  from  the  lips  of  un- 
clothed children  amid  those  untutored  peasantry.  She 
seemed  to  him  a  thing  of  witchcraft.  His  eyes  fixed 
themselves  on  the  child's  face  as  if  fascinated ;  he  saw  it 
grimy,  vivacious,  beautiful  but  weird,  tempting,  mysteri- 
ous. No  angel,  he  felt,  had  stopped  him  on  his  way.  He 
took  the  charm  mechanically,  and  the  child,  with  a  J030US 
yet  mocking  laugh,  lied  away.  He  roused  as  from  a  spell, 
called  after  her,  tossed  the  charm  into  the  air,  and  caught 
it  again,  and  called  once  more,  but  she  neither  answered 
nor  stopped.  He  gazed  around  him  once  again.  A 
superstitious  awe,  akin  to  terror,  crept  over  him ;  ho 
shuddered,  thrust  the  talisman  into  his  belt,  and  put 
spurs  to  his  horse. 

That  day,  for  the  most  part,  he  rode  alone,  and  when 
for  a  time  he  joined  Gonzales,  he  was  silent ;  silent,  too, 
was  his  companion,  and  neither  one  nor  the  other  divined 
the  thoughts  of  the  man  who  rode  at  his  side. 


[ro  on  bis 
1 ;  he  had 
ever  hud  a 
a  tiny  bit 
ust  it  into 

her  as  a 
istomcd  to 
ips  of  un- 
itry.  She 
eyes  fixed 
;  be  saw  it 
g,  uiysteri- 
I  way.  He 
th  a  joyous 
om  a  spell, 
and  caught 
r  answered 

again.  A 
r  him ;  bo 
i,   and   put 

,  and  when 
silent,  too, 
her  divined 
ie. 


XV. 

Years  passed.  The  nine  days'  feast  of  the  Blessed 
Virgin,  one  of  the  most  charming  of  all  the  year,  was  be- 
ing celebrated  wiih  unusual  pomp  in  the  church  at  Tres 
Hermanos.  Since  the  death  of  Padre  Francisco,  no  priest 
had  boen  regularly  stationed  there ;  but  at  the  expense  of 
Dofia  Isabel,  one  had  been  sent  there  to  remain  through 
the  nine  days  sacred  to  Mary,  and  the  people  gave  their 
whole  time  to  devotional  exercises,  much  to  the  neglect 
of  the  usual  hacienda  work.  The  crops  in  the  fields  were 
untended,  while  the  men  crowded  to  Mass  in  the  morning, 
and  spent  their  afternoons  at  the  tavern-shop  playing 
monte  and  drinking  pulque ;  while  the  women  and  chil- 
dren streamed  in  and  out  of  the  church,  —  the  women  to 
witness  the  offering  of  flowers  upon  the  altar,  the  children 
to  lay  them  there,  happy  once  in  the  year  to  be  chief  in 
the  service  of  the  beautiful  Queen  of  Heaven.  For 
though  the  image  above  the  altar  was  blackened  by  time 
and  defaced  by  many  a  scar,  the  robes  were  brilliant, 
and  glittered  with  variously  colored  jewels  of  glass ;  the 
crown  was  untarnished,  and  the  little  yellow  babe  in  the 
mother's  arms  appealed  to  the  strong  maternal  sentiment 
which  lies  deep  in  the  heart  of  every  Mexican  woman. 

Upon  the  first  day  of  the  feast  not  one  female  child  of 
the  many  who  lived  withm  the  hacienda  limits  was  absent 
from  the  church ;  and  they  were  so  many  that  the  proud 
mothers,  who  had  spent  no  little  of  their  time  and  sub- 
stance m  arraying  them,  were  fain  to  crowd  the  aisles  and 
doorways,  or  stand  craning  their  necks  without,  hoping  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  high  altar,  as  the  crowd  surged 
to  and  fro,  making  way  for  the  tinj'  representatives  of 
womanhood,  who  claimed  right  of  entrance  from  their 
very  powerlessness  and  innocence.  Quaint  and  ludicrous 
looked  these  little  creatures,  mincing  daintily  into  the 
church,  their    wide-spread    crinolines   expanding    skirts 


102 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


V  ■ ;  'It 


n  ■ 

I' 


i 


i 

ll 

1 

llil: 

j 

1 

l:i| 

!';! 

1 

lili;! 


I'  il  iilNl! 


i. 

1 

■»■ 

I 

\ii 

r;- 

I 

ifg. 

^^^^Hm  i 

stiffly  starcLed,  and  rustling  audibly  under  brilliant  tunics 
of  flowered  muslin  O"  purple  and  green  stuffs.  These 
dresses  were  an  exact  imitation  in  material  and  stj^le  of 
the  gala  attire  of  the  mothers.  The  full  skirts  swept  the 
ground,  and  over  the  curiously  embroidered  linen  chemise 
which  formed  the  bodice  was  thrown  the  ever-present  reboso, 
or  scarf  of  shimmering  tints.  The  well-oiled  black  locks  of 
these  miniature  rancheras  were  drawn  back  tightly  from 
the  low  foreheads,  —  the  long,  smooth  braids  fastened  and 
adorned  by  knots  of  bright  ribbon,  and  crowned  with 
flowers  of  domestic  manufacture,  their  glaring  hues  and 
fantastic  shapes  contrasting  strangely  with  the  masses  of 
beauty  and  fragrance  that  each  child  clasped  to  her  bosom. 
In  sp'te  of  its  incongruities,  a  fantastic  and  pleasant  sight 
was  offered ;  and  Doiia  Rita,  looking  around  her  with  the 
eye  of  a  devotee,  doubted  whether  any  more  pleasing 
could  be  devised  for  God  or  man. 

Within  the  sacred  walls  of  her  temple  at  least,  the 
Church  of  Rome  is  consistent  in  declaring  that  in  her 
eyes  hor  children  are  all  equal ;  and  upon  that  jpring- 
time  afterhoon  at  Tres  Hermanos,  among  a  throng  of 
plebeian  children  from  the  village,  knelt  the  daughters 
of  the  administrador ;  and  side  by  side  were  Doiia  Rita 
and  ii.  woman  from  whose  contact,  as  she  met  her  on  the 
court  the  day  before,  she  had  drawn  back  her  skirt, 
lest  it  should  be  polluted  by  the  mere  touch  of  so  foul 
a  creature. 

Rosario  and  Chata  (as  Florentina  was  so  constantly 
called  that  her  baptismal  name  was  almost  unknown) 
had  already  laid  their  wreaths  of  pink  Castillian  roses 
upon  the  altar,  and  were  demurely  telling  their  beads, 
when  a  startling  vision  passed  them. 

It  was  Chinita,  literally  begarlanded  with  flowers,  — 
w!ld-roses,  pale  and  delicate,  long  tendrils  of  jessamine, 
and  masses  of  faint  yellow  cups  of  the  cactus,  and  scarlet 
v(!rbenas,  dusty  and  coarse,  yet  offering  a  dazzling  con- 
trast of  color  to  the  snowy  pyramid  of  lily-shaped  blos- 
soms, hacked  from  the  summit  cf  a  palm,  which  she  bore 
proudly  upon  one  shoulder ;  while  from  the  other  hung 
her  blue  reboso  in  the  guise  of  a  bag  filled  r-'h  ferns  and 
grasses  brought  from  coverts  few  others  knew  of.  The 
flowers  made  a  glorious  display  as  they  were  laid  about  the 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA, 


103 


ant  tunics 
}.  These 
id  style  of 

swept  the 
jn  chemise 
ent  reboso, 
:;k  locks  of 
rhtly  from 
stened  and 
wned  with 
;  hues  and 

masses  of 
her  bosom, 
asant  sight 
er  with  the 
•e  pleasing 

)  least,  the 

that  in  her 

hat  upring- 

t  throng  of 

)  daughters 

Dona  Rita 

her  on  the 

her  skirt, 

of  so  foul 

constantly 

unknown) 

tillian  roses 

their  beads, 

I  flowers, — 
f  jessamine, 
and  scarlet 
azzling  eon- 
shaped  blos- 
lich  she  bore 
.  other  hung 
=  h  ferns  and 
,ew  of.  The 
aid  about  the 


altar,  for  there  was  not  room  for  half  upon  it.  The  breath 
of  the  fields  and  woodlands  rushed  over  the  church,  almost 
overpowering  the  smell  of  the  incense,  and  there  were 
smiles  on  many  faces  and  wide-eyed  glances  of  admiration 
and  surprise  as  Chiuita  descended  to  take  her  place  among 
tlie  congregation. 

Five  Mays  had  come  and  gone  since  she  had  stood  un- 
der the  fateful  tree,  and  given  the  jet  amulet  to  the  cava- 
lier who  hud  so  roused  and  fascinated  her  imagination ; 
but  whatever  may  have  been  its  effect  upon  its  new  pos- 
sessor, its  loss  had  certainly  wrought  no  ill  upon  Chinita. 
Though  not  yet  fourteen  years  of  age,  she  was  fast 
attaining  the  development  of  womanhood,  and  her  mind 
as  well  as  person  showed  a  rare  precocity  even  in  that 
land  where  the  change  from  childhood  to  womanhood 
seems  almost  instantaneous.  But  there  was  no  coyness, 
as  there  was  no  assumption  of  womanly  ways  in  this  tall, 
straight  young  creature,  whose  only  toil  was  to  carry  the 
water-jar  from  the  fountain  to  Florencia's  hut,  perhaps 
twice  in  the  day,  —  and  who  did  it  sometimes  laughingly, 
sometimes  grudgingly  as  the  humor  seized  her,  but  alwaj's 
spilling  half  the  burden  with  which  she  left  the  fountain 
before  she  lifted  it  from  her  shoulder  and  set  it  in  the 
hollow  worn  in  the  mud  floor  of  the  hut,  escaping  with 
a  laugh  from  Florencia's  scolding,  and  hurrying  out  to  her 
old  pursuits,  now  grown  more  various,  more  daring,  more 
perplexing,  more  vexatious  to^  all  with  whom  she  came 
in  contact. 

A  thousand  times  had  it  been  upon  the  lips  of  Dona 
Rita  to  forbid  the  entrance  in  her  house  of  the  foundling 
to  distract  the  minds  of  Rosario  and  Chata  by  her  wild 
pranks ;  but  aside  from  the  fact  that  Dofii  Rita  was  of  a 
constitutionally  indolent  nature,  averse  e\  en  to  the  use  of 
many  words  and  still  more  to  energetic  action,  the  child  was 
a  constant  source  of  interest.  She  carried  into  the  quiet 
rooms  a  sense  of  freedom  and  expansion,  as  though  she 
brought  with  her  the  breezes  and  sunlight  in  which  she 
delighted  to  wander.  She  had  too  a  powerful  ally  in  Dona 
Feliz,  who  kept  a  watchful  eye  upon  her ;  and  though  she 
never,  like  her  daughter-in-law  or  the  children,  made  a  pet 
and  plaything  of  the  waif,  yet  she  was  always  the  first  to 
notice  if  she  looked  less  well  than  usual,  or  to  set  Pedro 


ii» 


ii' 


r    n;i 


104 


CffATA  AND   CHINITA. 


on  his  guard  if  her  wanderings  were  too  far  afield,  or  her 
absences  too  long. 

Upon  this  day  as  Chinita  turned  from  the  altar,  while 
others  smiled,  a  frown  contracted  the  brow  of  Dofia  Feliz, 
as  for  the  first  time  perhaps  she  realized  that  this  gyps}'- 
like  child  was  in  physique  a  woman.  She  had  chosen  to 
wear  a  dress  of  bright  green  woollen  stuff,  —  far  from  be- 
coming to  the  olive  tint  of  her  skin,  but  by  some  accident 
cut  to  fit  the  lithe  figure  which  already  outlined,  though 
imperfectly,  the  graces  of  early  womanhood.  The  short 
armless  jacket  was  fashioned  after  the  child's  own  fancy, 
and  opened  over  a  chemise  which  was  a  mass  of  drawn 
work  a'ld  embroidery ;  her  skirts  outspread  all  others,  yet 
the  flowing  drapery  could  not  wholly  conceal  the  small 
brown  feet  which,  as  the  custom  was,  were  stockingless 
and  cased  in  heelless  slippers  of  some  fine  black  stufl", 
—  more  an  ornament  than  a  protection.  But  Chinita's 
crowning  glory  were  the  rows  of  many-colored  worthless 
glass  beads,  mingled  with  strings  of  corals  and  dark  and 
irregular  pearls,  that  hung  around  her  neck  and  festooned 
the  front  of  her  jacket.  This  dazzling  vision,  with  the  inevi- 
table soiled  reboso  thrown  lightly  over  one  shoulder,  came 
down  from  the  altar  and  through  the  aisle  of  the  church, 
smiling  in  supreme  content,  not  because  of  the  glorious 
tribute  of  flowers  she  had  plucked  and  oflfered,  nor  with 
pride  at  her  own  appearance,  gorgeous  as  she  believed  it 
to  be,  but  because  of  the  delightful  efl!cct  she  supposed 
both  would  leave  on  her  aristocratic  playmates ;  and 
much  amazed  was  she  as  she  neared  them  to  see  Chata's 
expressive  nose  assume  an  elevation  of  unapproachable  dig- 
nity, while  Rosario's  indignation  took  the  form  of  an  aggres- 
sive pinch,  so  deftly  given  that  Chinita's  shrill  interjection 
seemed  as  unaccountable  as  the  glory  of  her  apparel. 

Chinita  in  some  consternation  sank  on  her  knees,  her 
green  skirt  rising  in  folds  around  her,  reminding  Chata 
irresistibly  of  a  huge  butterfly  which  she  had  that  very 
morning  seen  settle  upon  a  verdant  pomegranate  bush. 
How  she  longed  to  extinguish  Chinita's  glories  as  she  had 
done  those  of  the  insect,  by  a  cast  of  her  reboso.  There 
was  no  malice  in  her  thought,  though  perhaps  a  trifle  of 
envy,  for  she  too  loved  brilliant  colors.  She  could  not 
restrain  a  titter  as  she  thought  what  Chinita's  vexation 


ing 


M 


§    i 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA, 


105 


ild,  or  her 

itar,  while 
ona  FeUz, 

lis  gypsy- 
chosen  to 
r  from  be- 
e  accident 
id,  though 
The  short 
)wn  fancy, 
of  drawn 
others,  yet 
the  small 
;ockingless 
)lack  stuff, 
b  Chinita's 
I  worthless 
I  dark  and 
I  festooned 
h  the  inevi- 
ilder,  came 
;he  church, 
le  glorious 
i,  nor  with 
believed  it 
e  supposed 
lates ;    and 
see  Chata's 
ichable  dig- 
f  an  aggrcs- 
intcrjcction 
parol, 
knees,  her 
ding  Chata 
\  that  very 
mate  bush. 
!  as  she  had 
)so.     There 
8  a  trifle  of 
3  could  not 
's  vexation 


would  be ;  and  with  a  face  glowing  with  anger  and  eyes 
filled  with  reproach,  Pedro's  foster-child  sailed  haughtily 
past  the  sisters  while  the  untrained  choir  were  singing 
hymns  of  rejoicing,  with  that  inimitable  undertone  of  pathos 
natural  in  the  voices  of  the  Aztecs,  and  the  censers  of  in- 
cense were  still  swinging,  and  left  the  church,  —  longing  to 
rush  back  and  to  trample  under  foot  the  flowers  she  had  so 
joyously  gathered,  longing  to  tear  off  the  fine  clothes  and 
adornments  she  had  so  proudly  donned.  She  pushed  an- 
grily past  a  peasant  boy  in  tattered  cotton  garments  and 
coarse  sombrero  of  woven  grass,  who  was  the  slave  of  her 
caprices,  who  had  toiled  in  her  Lcrvice  all  day  and  upon 
whom  she  had  smiled  when  she  entered  the  church,  yet 
whom  she  now  thrust  aside  in  rage  as  she  left  it,  with  a 
"Out  of  my  way,  stupid!  What  art  thou  staring  at? 
Thou  art  like  blind  Tomas,  with  his  ej'es  open  all  day 
long,  yet  seeing  nothing." 

"  A  pretty  one  thou,"  cried  the  boy,  angrily.  "  Dost 
suppose  I  am  a  rabbit,  to  care  for  nothing  but  green? 
Bah !  thou  art  uglier  in  thy  gay  skirts  than  in  thy  old  ones 
of  red-and-white  flannel !  " 

But  the  girl  had  not  lingered  to  listen  to  his  taunts. 
She  flew  rather  than  ran  to  her  hut,  which  on  account  of 
the  service  in  the  church  was  deserted.  A  crowd  of  rag- 
ged urchins  who  had  taken  up  the  cry  of  her  flouted  swain, 
followed  her,  jeering  and  hooting,  to  the  door  which  she 
slammed  in  their  faces.  Not  that  they  bore  her  anj'  ill 
will ;  but  the  sight  of  Chinita  in  her  fine  clothes,  ruffling 
and  fluttering  like  an  enraged  peacock,  was  irresistibly 
exciting  to  the  j'ouths  whom  her  loft}'  disdain  usuallj' 
held  in  the  cowed  and  submissive  state  of  awe-stricken 
admiration. 

Chinita,  scarcely  understanding  her  own  miserable  dis- 
appointment and  anger,  began  to  disembarrass  herself  of 
her  finery,  fiinging  each  article  from  her  with  contempt, 
until  she  stood  in  the  coarse  red  white-spotted  skirt,  with  a 
broad  band  of  light  green  above  the  hips,  —  which  formed 
her  ordinary  apparel.  As  she  stood  panting,  two  great 
tears  rolling  down  her  cheeks  and  two  others  as  large  hang- 
ing upon  her  long,  black  lashes,  she  saw  the  door  gently 
pushed  open  and  before,  with  an  angry  exclamation,  she 
could  reach  it,  a  li.'tle  brown  head  was  thrust  in. 


IOC 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


*'  Go  away !  "  cried  Chinita,  imperatively.  "  Tliou  hast 
been  told  not  to  come  here.  Thy  mother  will  have  thee 
whipped,  and  I  shall  be  glad,  and  I  will  laugh  !  yes,  I  will 
laugh  and  laugh ! "  and  she  proceeded  to  do  so  sardoni- 
cally on  the  instant,  gazing  down  with  a  glance  of  con- 
temptuous fury,  which  for  the  moment  was  tragically 
genuine,  upon  the  little  brown  countenance  lifted  to  her 
own  somewhat  apprehensively,  yet  with  a  mischievous 
daring  in  the  dark  eyes  that  lighted  it. 

Chinita,  with  a  child's  freedom  and  in  the  forgetfulness 
of  anger,  had  used  the  "thou"  of  equality  in  addressing 
her  visitor ;  yet  so  natural  and  irresistible  are  class  dis- 
tinctions in  Mexico,  that  she  held  open  the  door  with 
some  deference  for  the  daughter  of  the  administrador  to 
enter,  and  caught  up  her  scarf  to  throw  over  her  head 
and  bare  shoulders,  as  was  but  seemly  in  the  presence  of 
a  superior  however  young.  That  done,  however,  they 
were  but  two  children  together,  two  wilful  playmates  for 
the  moment  at  variance. 

"  Now,  then  !  Be  not  angry,  Chinita ! "  laughed  Chata, 
looking  around  her  with  great  satisfaction.  "  What  good 
fortune  that  thou  art  here  alone !  I  slipped  by  the  gate 
when  Pedro  was  busy  talking,  and  Rosario  was  making 
my  mother  and  mamagrande  to  fear  dying  of  laughter 
by  mimicking  thee,  Chinita  ;  and  so  they  never  missed  me 
when  I  darted  away  to  seek  thee,  Sauchica." 

"  And  thou  hadst  better  go  back,"  cried  Chinita,  grimly, 
more  piqued  at  being  the  cause  of  laughter  than  pleased 
at  Chata's  penetration ;  for  in  choosing  her  green  gown 
she  had  had  in  her  mind  the  habit  ofgreen  cloth  sent  by  the 
Duchess  to  Sancho  Panza's  rustic  daughter,  and  had  teased 
and  wheedled  Pedro  into  buying  her  holiday  dress  of 
that  color,  —  because  when  they  were  reading  the  story 
together  Chata  had  called  her  Sanchica  and  herself  the 
Duchess,  and  for  many  a  day  they  had  acted  together 
such  a  little  comedy  as  even  Cervantes  never  dreamed  of, 
in  which  they  had  seemed  to  live  in  quite  another  world 
than  that  actually  around  them.  The  tale  cC  the  ' '  Knight 
of  the  Sorrowful  Countenance  "  was  a  strange  text-book  for 
children  ;  yet  in  it  they  had  contrived  to  put  together  the 
letters  learned  in  the  breviary,  and  with  their  two  heads 
close  bent  over  the  page,  the,:^  two,  as  years  passed  on, 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


107 


*'  Thou  hast 
11  have  thee 
!  yes,  I  will 

so  sardoni- 
,nce  of  con- 
is  tragically 
lifted  to  her 

mischievous 

forgetfulness 
n  addressing 
,re  class  dis- 
le  door  with 
linistrador  to 
vrer  her  head 
3  presence  of 
owever,  they 
)laymates  for 

iighed  Chata, 
"What  good 
by  the  gate 
was  making 
y  of  laughter 
rer  missed  me 
a." 

linita,  grimly, 
than  pleased 
f  green  gown 
oth  sent  by  the 
md  had  teased 
iday  dress  of 
iing  the  story 
ad  herself  the 
acted  together 
sr  dreamed  of, 
another  world 
>i*  the  "  Knight 
;e  text-book  for 
it  together  the 
leir  two  heads 
irs  passed  on, 


had  spelled  out  first  the  story,  then  later  an  inkling  of  the 
wit,  the  fancy,  the  philosophy  which  lay  deep  between  the 
two  leathern  covers  that  inclosed  the  entire  secular  litera- 
ture that  the  house  of  Don  Rafael  afforded. 

There  were,  indeed,  shelves  of  quaint  volumes  in  the 
darkened  rooms  into  which  Chata  sometimes  peeped  when 
Dona  Feliz  left  a  door  ajar ;  but  so  great  was  her  awe  that 
she  would  not  have  disturbed  an  atom  of  dust,  and  scarce 
dared  to  breathe  lest  the  deep  stillness  of  those  dusky 
rooms  should  be  broken  by  ghostly  voices.  But  Chinita, 
less  scrupulous,  had  more  than  once,  quite  unsuspected, 
passed  what  were  to  her  delightful  though  grewsome  hours 
in  those  echoing  shades,  and  with  the  bare  data  of  a  few 
names  had  repeopled  them  in  imagination  with  those  long 
dead  and  gone,  as  well  as  with  the  figure  of  that  stately 
Dona  Isabel,  who  still  lived  in  some  far-off"  city,  —  mourn- 
ing rebelliously,  it  was  whispered,  over  the  beautiful 
daughter  shut  from  her  sight  by  the  walls  of  a  convent, 
yet  who  with  seemingly  pitiless  indifference  had  consigned 
the  equally  beautiful  younger  Carmen  to  a  loveless  mar- 
riage ;  for  the  latter  had  married  an  elderly  widower,  and 
who  could  believe  it  might  be  from  choice?  Chinita 
heard  perhaps  more  of  these  things  than  any  one,  for 
she  was  free  to  run  in  and  out  of  every  hut,  as  well  as 
the  house  of  the  administrador ;  and  with  her  quick  intelli- 
gence, her  lively  imagination,  and  that  faculty  which  with 
one  drop  of  Indian  blood  seems  to  pervade  the  entire 
being,  —  the  faculty  of  astute  and  silent  assimilation  of 
every  glance  and  hint,  —  she  was  in  her  apparent  ignor- 
ance and  childishness  storing  thoughts  and  preparing 
deductions,  which  lay  as  deep  from  any  human  eye  as 
the  volcanic  fires  that  in  the  depths  of  some  vine-clad 
mountain  may  at  any  moment  burst  forth,  to  amaze  and 
terrify  and  overwhelm. 

But  Chinita  was  brooding  over  no  secret  thoughts  as 
she  began  to  smile,  though  unwillingly  and  half  wrathfull3% 
as  Chata  eagerly  declared  how  well  the  green  dress  had 
transformed  her  into  a  veritable  Sanchica,  and  how  stupid 
she  herself  had  been  not  to  guess  from  the  first  what  her 
clever  playmate  had  meant ;  then  she  laughed  again  as  she 
thought  of  the  billowy  green  in  which  Chinita  had  knelt, 
and  the  half-appeased  masquerader  was  vexed  anew,  and 


i 


108 


CHATA   AND   CfflNITA. 


pit 

m 


v 


M 


iiilli^ 


sat  sullenly  on  tho  edge  of  the  adobe  shelf  that  served  as  a 
bedstead,  and  tu^^ged  vicicnsly  at  the  knots  of  ribbon  in  tho 
rebellious  hair  wliich  she  had  vainly  striven  >,o  confine  in 
seemly  tresses.  She  shook  back  the  wild  locks,  which  once 
free  sprang  into  a  thousand  rings  and  tendrils,  and  looking 
at  Chata  irefuUy  from  between  them,  exclaimed,  — 

"  You  laugh  at  me  always  !  You  are  a  baby ;  you  read 
in  the  book,  and  yet  you  know  nothing.  If  I  were  rich 
like  you,  I  would  not  be  silent  and  puny  and  weak  as 
you  are.  I  would  be  strong  and  beautiful,  and  a  woman 
as  Kosario  is ;  and  I  would  know  everything,  —  yes,  as 
much  as  the  Padre  Comacho,  and  more ;  and  I  would 
be  great  and  proud,  as  they  say  the  Seiiora  Dona 
Isabel  is ! " 

"But,"  cried  Chata,  flushing  with  astonishment  and 
some  aii^er,  "  how  can  I  be  beautiful  and  strong  and  like 
a  grown  woman  at  will  ?  My  grandmother  says  it  is  well 
I  am  still  a  child,  while  Rosario  is  almost  a  woman ;  and 
I  do  not  mind  being  little,  no,  nor  even  that  my  nose  turns 
back  to  run  away,  as  you  say,  from  my  mouth  every  time 
I  open  it ;  but  it  is  growing  more  courageous,  I  know,'* 
—  and  she  gave  the  doubtful  member  an  encouraging  pull. 
"  I  do  not  mind  all  this  in  the  least,  while  my  father 
and  my  grandmother  love  me ;  but  my  mother  and  you 
and  every  one  else  look  onl}'  at  Rosario,  and  talk  only 
of  her — "and  her  lip  trembled. 

"  But  do  I  talk  to  Rosario  ?  "  asked  Chinita,  much  molli- 
fied. "Do  I  ever  tell  her  my  dreams,  and  all  the  fine 
things  I  see  and  hear,  when  I  wander  off  in  the  fields  and 
by  the  river,  and  up  into  the  dark  canons  of  the  hills? 
And,"  she  added  in  an  eager  whisper,  "  shall  I  ever  tell 
her  about  the  American's  ghost  when  I   see   him?" 

"  Bah !  3'ou  will  never  see  him,"  ejaculated  Chata,  con- 
temptuously, though  she  glanced  over  her  shoulder  with  a 
sudden  start.  "There  is  no  such  thing.  I  asked  my 
grandnothor  about  it  j'csterday,  and  she  saj^s  it  is  all 
wicked  nonsense.  There  could  have  been  no  American  to 
be  murdered,  for  she  remembers  nothing  about  it." 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  Chinita,  significantly,  and  she 
laughed.  "  Then  it  is  no  use  for  me  to  tell  you  where  he 
is  buried.  If  there  was  no  Arr  ericanj  he  could  not  have 
a  grave." 


% 


? 


1 
I 


;'i 


(( 


''I' 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


109 


"  But  I  sha'  n't 
well  go  home. 


"No! 
patience, 


"  Yet  you  have  found  it ! "  cried  Chata,  in  intense 
excitement,  for  the  story,  more  or  less  veracious,  that  had 
often  been  told  her  of  the  murder  of  the  American  years 
before,  and  the  return  of  his  ghost  from  time  to  time  to 
haunt  the  spot  accursed  by  his  unavenged  blood,  had 
taken  a  strong  hold  upon  her  imagination.  "  Oh,  Chinita ! 
did  you  go,  as  you  said  you  would,  among  the  graves  on 
the  hillside?    Did  you  go?" 

"  Why,  yes,  I  did  go,"  answered  Chinita,  slowly,  wind- 
ing her  arms  around  her  knees,  as  she  leaned  from  her 
high  perch,  her  brown  face  almost  touching  that  of  the 
smaller  child,  who  still  stood  before  her. 
tell  yju  anything  more,  so  you  may  as 
Ah,  I  think  I  hear  them  calling  you,"  and  she  straightened 
herself  up  as  if  to  listen. 

no !  no ! "  cried  Chata  in  an  agon}-  of  im- 
"  I  will  not  go  till  you  tell  me.  I  will  know ! 
Oh,  Chinita,  if  I  were  but  like  j'ou,  and  could  run  about 
at  will,  over  the  fields  and  up  the  hills ! "  The  tears  rose 
to  her  ryes  as  she  spoke,  —  poor  little  captive,  in  her  stolen 
moment  of  liberty  feeling  in  her  soul  the  iron  of  bondage 
to  custom  or  necessity. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Chinita,  deliberately,  prolonging  the 
impatience  of  her  supplicant,  while  the  tears  in  the  dark 
gra^'  eyes  lifted  to  her  own  moved  her,  "  I  went  through 
the  cornfield.  I  drove  Pep6  back  when  he  wanted  to  go 
with  me.  Oh,  how  afraid  that  big  boy  is  of  me !  Yes,  I 
went  through  the  corn,  —  oh,  it  is  so  high,  so  high,  I  thought 
it  was  the  very  wood  where  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho 
Panza  met  the  robbers ;  but  I  was  not  afraid.  And  then 
I  came  to  the  beanfield,  and  oh,  nma !  I  meant  to  go 
again  this  very  day,  and  bring  an  armful  of  the  sweet 
blossoms  to  Our  Lady,  and  1  forgot  it ! "  clasping  her 
hands  penitently. 

"  And  well  for  thee  that  thou  didst,"  exclaimed  Chata, 
"or  a  pretty  rating  my  father  would  have  given  tuee! 
lie  says  it  is  enough  to  make  the  Blessed  Virgm  vexed  for 
a  year  to  sec  the  good  food-blossoms  wasted,  when  there 
are  millions  of  flowers  God  only  meant  for  her  and  the 
bees.  But,  Chinita,  I  would  I  were  a  bee,  to  make  thee 
cry  as  I  wish !  Thou  art  slower  than  ever  to-day.  Tell 
me,  tell  mc,  what  didst  thou  next?" 


'''llfT 


■1!"      ' 


110 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


; 


I'lii 


111,        ' 
il  • 


(I 
'i 


!i;l: 


! 


ill 


!  li 
I 


Mi- 


1  I 

li  i 


i'l 


i  ■     ■* 

1 

Lli 

"Well,  did  I  not  tell  you  I  came  to  the  beanfield, — 
what  should  I  do  but  go  through  it?"  remonstrated 
Chinita ;"  and  then  I  walked  under  the  willows.  Ah,  if 
you  could  only  once  walk  under  the' willows,  wtwa!  it  is 
like  heaven  in  the  green  shade  b}'  the  clear  water,  and 
there  are  great  brakes  of  rushes,  with  the  birds  skimming 
over  thom.  I  saw  among  them  a  stork  standing  on  one 
leg,  and  he  had  in  his  mouth  a  little  striped  snake,  yellow 
and  scarlet  and  black,  which  so  wriggled  and  twisted ! 
Ah,  and  I  saw,  besides,  little  fish  in  the  shallow  water, 
and—" 

Chata  sighed.  She  had  unconsciously  sunk  upon  the 
mud  floor  ;  her  eyes  opened  wide,  as  if  in  imagination  she 
saw  all  those  things  of  which,  though  she  was  set  in  the 
very  heart  of  Nature,  her  bodily  e3'es  had  caught  no  glimpse. 
How  in  her  heart  of  hearts  the  sheltered,  cloisttred  daugh- 
ter of  the  admiuistrador  envied  the  wild  fo  er-child  of  the 
gate-keeper,  who  was  so  free,  and  from  whom  the  woods 
and  fields  could  keep  no  secrets !  "  Go  on  i "  she  whis- 
pered, and  Chinita  said,  in  a  sort  of  recitative,  — 

"  Yes,  I  went  on  and  on,  not  very  long  by  the  water's 
edge,  though  I  loved  it,  but  up  the  little  path  through  the 
stones  and  the  thorny  cacti.  Oh,  but  they  were  full  of 
yellow  blossoms,  and  they  amelled  so  sweet ;  but  they  were 
full  of  prickles  too,  and  as  I  went  up  the  steep  hillside 
they  caught  my  reboso  every  minute,  and  when  I  stood 
among  the  graves  my  hands  were  tingling  and  smarting, 
and  I  was  half  blind  and  stumbling.  I  was  so  tired,  oh,  so 
tired !  and  I  sat  down  and  rubbed  my  hands  in  the  sand. 
It  was  very  still  there ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  little  wind 
was  always  singing,  but  perhaps  it  was  the  dry  grass  rust- 
ling ;  but  as  I  bent  down  to  listen,  I  fell  asleep,  and  when 
I  woke  up  the  sun  was  no  higher  in  the  sk}'  than  the  width 
of  my  hana,  and  I  had  no  time  to  look  for  anything." 

"Ah,  stupid  creature ! "  cried  Chata,  after  a  moment's 
silent  disappointment  "  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  so  be- 
fore? I  must  be  missed.  ^  shall  be  scolded,"  and  in  a 
sudden  panic  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  turned  to  the  door. 

"  Stay  !  stay  !  "  cried  Chinita,  eager  to  give  hor  news,  as 
she  saw  Chata  about  to  fl}'.     "  Tliough  1  did  not  look,  I 
found 
clear ! 


something. 


Oh,  yes,  in  black  letters,  so  big  and 


hei 

th.i 
coi 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


Ill 


beanfield,  — 
remonstrated 
lows.  Ah,  if 
J,  nina !  it  is 
r  water,  and 
•ds  skimming 
iding  on  one 
snake,  yellow 
and  twisted! 
hallow  water, 

unk  upon  the 
laginatiou  she 
vas  set  in  the 
;ht  no  glimpse, 
isttred  daugh- 
?r-child  of  the 
oin  the  woods 
n  i "  she  whis- 
k-e,  — 

by  the  waters 
th  through  the 
ly  were  full  of 

but  they  were 
s  steep  hillside 

when  I  stood 

and  smarting, 
so  tired,  oh,  so 
ds  in  the  sand, 
at  a  little  wind 

dry  grass  rust- 
lecp,  and  when 

than  the  width 
anything." 
ter  a  moment's 
t  tell  me  so  be- 
Ided,"  and  in  a 
id  to  the  door, 
ivc  hor  news,  as 

did  not  look,  I 
Brs,  so  big  and 


•i 


Chata  returned  precipitately.  "  Letters — what  letters  ?  " 
she  cried. 

"  Big  black  letters,  J  and  U  and  A  and  N ;  and  the 
letters  for  the  American  name  —  how  do  they  say  it? 
Ash  —  Yes,  Ashley  —  it  is  not  hard  —  and  that  he  was 
'  born  in  the  United  States,  and  murdered  here  in  May,  — 
yes,  I  forget  the  figures,  but  I  counted  up ;  it  was  just 
lb  .rtecn  years  ago,  upon  the  13th  of  this  very  month.  It 
was  all  written  out  upon  a  little  wooden  cross,  wliich  had 
fallen  face  down  upon  the  grave  I  fell  asleep  upon.  1 
might  have  looked  for  it  a  hundred  years  and  not  have 
found  it,  but  I  had  scraped  away  the  sand  from  it  to  rub 
my  hands.  It  is  thick  and  heavy ;  I  could  scarcely  turn  it 
over  to  read  the  words,  —  but  they  are  there.  You  may 
tell  Dona  Feliz  there  was  an  American." 

"  No,  I  shall  say  nothing,"  said  Chata,  dreamily.  "  She 
likes  not  to  hear  of  murder  or  of  ghosts.  Ah,  the  poor 
American !  why  does  his  spirit  stay  here  ?  This  is  not 
purgatory.  Ah,  can  it  be  he  cannot  rest  because  he  died 
upon  the  13th?  —  the  unlucky  number,  my  mother  says." 

"  Let  us  make  it  luck}',"  said  Chinita,  daringly.  "  Let 
us  say  thirteen  Aves  and  thirteen  Pater  Nosters  for  his 
"^^lil." 

But  Chata  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and  started 
violently  as  a  servant  maid,  grimy  and  ragged  like  all  her 
clan,  and  panting  with  haste,  thrust  open  the  door, 
exclaiming,  — 

"  Nina  of  my  soul,  3'our  lady  mother  declares  you  are 
dead.  Dona  Feliz  has  searched  all  the  house,  and  is 
wringing  her  hands  with  grief.  Don  Rafael  has  seized 
Pedro  by  the  collar,  and  is  mad  with  rage  because  he 
swears  j'ou  have  not  passed  the  gate ;  and  here  I  find 
you,  with  your  white  frock  all  stained  with  dirt,  and  that 
beggar  brat  filling  your  ears  with  her  mad  tales.  The 
Saints  defend  us !  Sometime  the  witch  will  fly  off —  as 
she  came  —  no  one  knows  where.  But  you,  mwa,  come, 
come  awaj' ! "  and  the  excited  woman  dragged  the  truant 
reluctantly  away  ;  while  Chinita,  thrusting  her  tongue  into 
her  check,  received  the  epithets  of  "beggar  brat"  and 
"  witch  "  with  a  contempt  which  the  gesture  only,  rather 
than  any  words,  fluent  as  she  was  in  plebeian  repartee, 
could  at  that  moment  adequately  express. 


XVI. 


m 


III  : 


i 


:!! 


1     lil 
■  i'     I ! 


•I 


n  ! 


1 


Tnouon  Cliinita  as  was  usual  was  made  the  scapegoat 
for  Cliata's  fault,  —  Doila  Rita  averring  that  the  girl  pos- 
sessed an  irresistible  power  for  evil  over  her  own  innocent 
children,  —  Chata  on  this  occasion  felt  herself  most  heavily 
punished,  for  Don  Rafael  strengthened  his  wife's  fiat 
against  the  dangerous  temptress,  the  gate-keeper's  child, 
by  absolutely  prohibiting  her  entrance  to  his  house.  Chata 
wept  for  her  playmate,  and  for  manj'  days  Rosario  moped 
and  sulked  ;  while  Chinita  hung  disconsolate  —  as  the  Peri 
at  the  gate  of  Paradise  —  about  the  entrance  to  the  court, 
finding  small  solace  in  the  young  fawn  Pepu  had  given  her, 
though  she  twined  her  arms  around  it  and  held  its  head 
against  her  bosom,  that  its  large  pensive  eyes  might  seem 
to  join  in  the  appeal  of  her  own.  And  perhaps  the  two 
aided  by  time  and  Chata's  grief  might  have  conquered ; 
but  there  was  a  sudden  interruption  of  the  quiet  course  of 
life  at  Tres  Hermanos. 

One  day  Chinita  found  the  whole  house  open  to  her; 
there  was  no  one  there  either  to  welcome  or  repulse  her 
save  Dona  Feliz.  Don  Rafael,  with  his  wife  and  children, 
had  obeyed  a  sudden  call,  and  had  hastened  to  the  dying 
bed  of  Dofia  Rita's  mother.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
Chata  had  left  the  hacienda.  Rosario  had  twice  before 
gone  with  her  mother  to  visit  relatives,  but  for  various 
reasons  Chata  had  remained  at  home.  Dona  Rita  seemed 
half  inclined  to  leave  her  at  this  time  also ;  but  Don  Rafael 
cut  the  matter  short  by  ordering  her  few  necessaries  to  be 
packed,  and  in  a  flutter  of  excitement,  perhaps  heightened 
by  the  frown  upon  her  mother's  face,  Chata  took  her  seat 
in  the  carriage  that  was  to  bear  her  far  beyond  the  circle 
of  hills  which  had  heretofore  bounded  her  vision. 

What  a  pall  seemed  to  fall  upon  the  place  when  they 
were  all  gone  !  First,  a  great  stillness  pervaded  the  court 
and  corridors  where  the  children's  voices  were  wont  to 


CJIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


113 


\\\\% ;  aiul  then  hollow,  {ghostly  noiaus  woko  tlio  echoes.  A 
second  court  was  now  opened  which  lon<j;  hud  been  closed, 
tliou^h  the  fountains  played  there,  and  the  llower-pots 
were  all  rich  with  bloom.  The  doors  of  rooms  which  before 
ut  best  had  been  only  lell  ajar  were  opened  wide  ;  und  Dofia 
Fell/,  with  a  few  of  her  most  trusty  servants,  swept  out  tlie 
lonij;  accumulated  dust,  and  let  the  light  stream  in  upon  the 
disused  furniture.  Chinita  had  caught  glimpses  of  these 
things  before,  indistinct,  uncertain,  as  though  they  were 
far  memories  of  a  past  existence.  She  and  Chata  had 
often  talked  of  them  in  days  when  they  played  at  being 
grand  ladies,  and  in  imagination  they  were  rich  and  beau- 
tiful ;  but  when  she  actually  stood  in  the  broad  sunshine, 
and  saw  the  gilt  and  varnish,  the  variegated  stuffs  and 
grcitt  mirrors,  the  reality  seemed  a  dream,  from  which  she 
feared  to  waken.  For  all  these  material  things  appealed 
to  something  in  the  child's  nature  which  it  appeared  im- 
possible she  should  have  inherited  from  a  long  line  of 
l)lebeian  ancestors,  —  a  something  that  was  not  a  mere 
gaping  admiration  for  what  was  bright  and  beautiful  and 
dazzling  by  its  very  height  *'  separation  I'rom  the  poor 
possibilities  of  her  life,  but  wh  cli  one  would  sa}-  had  sprung 
directly  irom  the  intluences  of  lavish  splendor.  There 
was  an  impulse  toward  appropriation  and  enjoyment  in  the 
actual  touch  of  these  attributes  of  an  aristocratic  life,  an 
instinctive  knowledge  of  the  uses  of  things  she  had  never 
before  seen  or  heard  of,  which  seemed  to  come  as  naturally 
into  her  mind  as  would  the  art  of  swimming  to  a  duckling 
that  had  passed  its  first  days  in  the  coop  with  its  foster- 
mother  the  hen.  Nothing  surprised  her,  and  the  delight 
she  felt  was  not  merely  that  of  novelt}',  but  that  of  the  satis- 
faction of  a  long-felt  want.  Dona  Feliz  had  not  forbidden 
her  entrance  when  she  first  saw  her  at  the  door  of  Doiia 
Isabel's  apartment,  but  watched  her  with  grave  surprise  as 
she  wandered  through  the  long  rooms,  sometimes  picking 
up  a  fan,  a  hand-glass,  a  cup,  and  unconsciously^  assuming 
the  very  air  and  walk  of  a  grand  lady,  —  an  air  so  natural 
that  even  in  her  tattered  red  skirt  it  never  for  a  mo- 
ment made  her  appear  grotesque. 

Don  Rafael  returned  home  in  the  midst  of  the  work  of 
renovation.  He  had  left  his  family  with  the  dying 
uiother,  forced  to  return  by  the  exigencies  of  business,  — 


,»wfp 


114 


C//ATA   AND  C/I/N/rA. 


\\\ 


IS 


'til 


':i 


I 


but  ill  pleased  to  lonvo  thom,  for  the  ronds  were  full  of 
bsmdits,  and  the  country  was  inft'Hted  with  wandcrinij 
hands,  as  daiij^orous  in  tlioir  proloHsed  niiliti'ry  chanicter 
as  the  openly  avowed  r()l)l)erM.  They  enjoyed  immunity  in 
all  their  depredations  and  deeds  of  violence,  because  they 
were  committed  undrr  the  standard  of  the  (Jovernor  of  the 
State,  .losi'  Ramirez,  —  (or  to  his  rule  of  military  ehieriain 
the  adventurer  had  added  that  of  politi(Man.  In  this  role 
he  had  hastened  the  totterin*;  fortunes  of  President  Comon- 
fort  to  their  fall,  by  seizin*;  in  his  name  a  larj^o  sum  of 
money  belonj^inj?  to  foreijjn  merchants,  and  with  it  buying; 
over  the  troops  under  his  command, —  tlrst  to  declare  him 
militar}'  governor,  and  then  to  join  with  enthusiasm  the 
clerical  fontes,  wliich  sprang  into  being  as  if  by  magic, 
bringing  with  them  money  in  plenty,  and  gay  uniforms, 
which  put  to  shame  the  rags  which  the  Liberals  wore 
and  which  the  resources  of  the  legitimate  government 
were  insuiHeient  to  replace  with  more  attractive  garb. 
For  months  the  name  of  Josr  Ramirez  had  rung  through 
the  land  in  alternate  shouts  of  triumph  and  jo}'  and  howls 
of  execration.  The  prison  doors  had  been  thrown  open, 
and  hundreds  of  convicts  had  joined  his  ranks,  ready  to 
die  for  the  man  who  had  set  them  free,  —  not  for  grati- 
tude, but  in  an  excess  of  admiration  for  a  spirit  more 
lawless,  more  daring,  than  their  own. 

Chinita  used  to  stand  half  aloof,  and  listen  to  these 
things,  as  wild  rumors  of  them  reached  the  hacienda,  a 
burning  pride  glowing  in  her  heart  as  she  heard  of  deeds 
that  made  men  tremble  and  stand  aghast ;  and  in  imagina- 
tion she  saw  the  tall  dark  man  whom  she  had  made  her 
hero  riding  through  the  streets  in  the  full  panoply  of  mili- 
tary splendor,  followed  by  a  train  of  mounted  soldiers  as 
gorgeous  as  himself,  —  then  the  blaring  band,  the  gay  foot 
soldiers  shouting  his  name,  and  that  terrible  battle-cry  of 
"  Religion  y  Fuoros,"  in  which  so  man\'  inf(!rnal  deeds 
were  done ;  and  last  of  all  a  multitude  of  half-dad  men, 
women,  and  ])oys  and  girls  like  herself  in  ragged  gar- 
ments, not  hungry  nor  wretched,  though  with  all  the  grime 
and  squalor  of  jjovorty  upon  them.  She  loathed  them 
in  her  heart,  though  she  did  not  consciously  separate 
herself  from  their  kind  ;  but  often  ran  to  the  covert  of 
the  tall  corn,  or  the  shade  of  some  tree,  and  sat  down 


CI/ATA   AND   CIllNITA, 


115 


Hiul  (livw  her  rchoso  over  lior  head,  laiij^liinj^  Hodly  and 
l)iT:itlilcssly,  for  had  shu  not  given  Ihis  man  Ihc  annilct 
wliu'h  jj;avo  him  u  charmed  life?  SometimeH  Hhe  heard  of 
attacks  nuidc  upon  liin),  —  how  bniletH  had  {^one  crashing 
through  hiH  carriage  win(U)W.s,  how  in  th(!  very  streets  of 
the  city,  as  well  as  on  the  hattle-lield,  his  horses  had  heen 
shot  under  him ;  hut  hi;  had  never  once  lieen  hurt.  She 
was  tt  ragged,  barelbot  girl,  but  JK^re  was  Komething 
which  in  her  own  eyes  enwrapixid  her  as  with  velvet 
and  ermine,  —  the  iH^lief  that  she  had  some  pait  in  that 
dazzling  career  that  attra(rt((d  tlui  gaze,  the  wonder,  the 
terror  of  what  was  to  her  mind  the  whole  wide  world. 

Through  those  hot  summer  days  I'rdro  saw  litth;  of  his 
foster  child  ;  and  sometimes  wlu;n  he  did  see  her,  she  would 
pass  by  as  if  he  were  nothing  t(*  her,  or  would  shuddiir 
sometimes  when  he  laid  his  hand  with  gentle  violence  upon 
her  arm,  and  forced  her  in  from  the  glaring  sunshine, 
in  which  she  often  wandered  for  hours,  unconscious  of  the 
heat  which  was  burning  her  skin  browner  and  browner, 
but  painting  roses  on  her  cheeks,  and  filling  her  eyes  with 
light;  and  sometimes  she  would  come  softly  up  behind 
him  and  throw  the  brown  tangle  of  \\k.\x  hair  over  his  eyes, 
almost  smothering  him  in  the  golden  crispness  of  its 
ruddy  ends,  and  kiss  him  wildly  betwiu-n  his  bushy  eyc- 
lirows,  calling  herself  his  wicked  Chinita,  his  naughty 
child,  until  he  would  draw  her  on  his  kncie  and  wii)e  away 
her  streaming  tears  with  the  tendern(!ss  but  nont;  of  the 
familiarity  of  a  parent,  and  while  lie  did  so,  sigh  and  sigh 
again,  and  wonder  what  these  wild  moods  would  lead  to. 

When  Dona  Feliz  began  the  renovation  of  the  family 
apartments  I'edro  stole  in  there  one  day  when  she  chanced 
to  be  (juite  alone,  and  asked  if  it  was  true  that  Dona  Isabel 
would  soon  return  ;  it  was  many  years  —  yes,  twelve  and 
more  — since  she  had  left  them  ;  and  the  nina  Carmen,  was 
it  true  that  she  was  married?  And  the  Senorita  Herlinda? 
"  Was  it  quite  certain,"  and  his  voice  grew  low,  —  "  was  it 
quite  certain  she  was  in  a  convent?  " 

"Did  not  Don  Vicente  tell  you  that?"  queried  Dofia 
Feliz ;  "and  his  sad  looks,  did  they  not  tell  you?  Ah, 
unhappy  girl,  where  should  she  be  but  in  a  convent? 
Where  else  in  the  world  should  she  hide,  who  was  so  at 
feud  with  life?"     She  started,  remembering  herself;  but 


i 


!  ; 


1^^ 


P 


rWM 


!    I 


11 
II  ti 


'IF 


:i!i 


IIG 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


Pedro  was  looking  at  her  with  impassive  stolidit}'.  "  Yes, 
yes,"  she  continued  impatiently,  "she  has  chosen  her 
path  ;  she  lias  left  the  world  forever." 

"  But  they  say,"  droned  Pedro,  monotonously,  "  that  the 
convents  will  be  opened  and  all  the  nuns  be  made  free 
when  the  Seiior  Juarez  takes  his  turn  to  rule.  They  say 
the  day  he  enters  the  palace  the  dead  men's  hands  will 
open,  and  all  their  riches  escape  from  their  grasp.  The 
silver  and  gold  will  be  taken  from  the  altars  and  given  to 
the  poor,  and  the  monasteries  and  nunneries  be  pulled 
down,  that  the  people  may  build  their  houses  with  the 
stones." 

Dona  Feliz  laughed.  It  was  not  often  any  sound 
of  merriment  passed  her  lips,  and  then  not  in  scorn. 
"  Dreams,  dreams,  Pedro  !  "  she  said.  "  Are  3'ou  as  fool- 
ish as  the  rest,  and  think  the  new  law  would  give  all  the 
poor  wealth,  or  even  the  despoiled  their  own?  Do  3'ou 
think  Juarez  himself  believes  it?  No,  no!  he  is  a  sly 
fox ;  and  while  the  Church  and  Comonfort  were  the  lion 
and  bear  struggling  over  the  carcass,  he  strives  to  glide 
in  and  steal  the  llesh.  Do  you  think  he  will  divide  it 
among  you  hungry  ones  ?  No  !  these  politicians  are  all 
alike,  and  wliether  with  the  cry  of  religion  or  liberty, 
fight  and  plot  only  for  their  own  aggrandizement,  and 
the  poor  country  is  forgotten,  as  it  is  drenched .  b}'  the 
blood  of  her  sons.  There  is  not  one  true  patriot  in  all 
this  distracted  land." 

She  spoke  rather  to  herself  than  Pedro,  who  shook  his 
head  with  a  sort  of  grim  obstinacy.  ' '  I  am  thinking  to 
go  away,  Doiia  Feliz,"  he  said.  "You  know  the  Seiior 
Juarez  is  at  liberty,  and  there  will  be  blood}"  days  soon  if 
Zuloaga  does  not  yield  him  his  rightful  place  in  Mexico. 
I  have  a  mind  to  see  a  few  of  them.  You  know  I  was 
a  good  soldier  in  Santa  Anna's  time,  and  as  I  sit  in  the 
gate  I  hear  the  sound  of  the  cannon  and  the  rattle  of 
musketry  and  the  voice  of  ni}'  old  commander  Gonzales, 
only  it  comes  now  from  the  lips  of  his  son ;  and  I  feel  I 
must  go." 

Dofia  Feliz  looked  at  him  steadil}'.  She  knew  her 
countrj'man  well,  and  thougli  she  doubted  not  that  some- 
thing of  the  martial  spirit  of  the  time  was  stirring  within 
him,  she  was  equally  certain  that  a  second  and  more  potent 


:l! 


I;  ; 


CHATA  AND  CHTNITA. 


117 


reason  was  prompting  Pedro  to  leave  Trcs  Ilermanos ; 
but  she  only  said,  — 

''Then  you  wish  to  join  Vicente  Gonzales?  They  say 
he,  with  all  his  band,  has  thrown  his  fortunes  in  with 
those  of  Juarez.  Well,  well,  perhaps  anything  was  bettL>r 
than  that  he  should  be  linked  with  Ramirez.  If  Vincentc 
is  a  traitor,  it  is  at  least  with  a  noble  aim,  not  for  mere 
plunder.  There  was  something  strange,  forbidding,  ter- 
rible, about  that  man  Ramirez.  Did  you  notice  his  face, 
Tedro,  when  he  was  here?" 

Pedro  shook  his  head,  returning  with  pertinacity  to  his 
own  plans.  "  You  will  talk  to  Don  Rafael  for  me,  will 
you  not,  Senora?"  he  said,  with  a  trace  of  the  abject 
whine  in  his  tone  thr.t  marked  the  habit  of  serfdom,  which 
a  few  years  of  nominal  freedom  had  done  little  to  alter, 
"  and  with  your  good  leave  I  will  go,  and  take  Chinita 
with  me."  He  spoke  hesitatingly,  as  though  fearful  his 
right  would  be  disputed. 

"'  Take  Chinita !"  exclaimed  Dona  Feliz.  "What,  to  a 
soldiers'  camp,  to  her  ruin  !  You  are  mad,  Pedro.  No, 
she  shall  remain  here  with  me.  I  will  take  her  into  the 
house.  I  will  teach  her  io  sew.  She  shall  be  my  child 
rather  than  m}'  servant!  I  — "  she  stopped  in  extreme 
agitation,  for  within  the  doorwaj'^  the  child  stood. 

"  I  will  be  no  one's  servant !  "  she  said,  proudly  draw- 
ing herself  up  ;  "  and  as  to  going  to  the  Indian's  camp  — • 
ah,  I  know  a  better  place  than  that,"  and  she  nodded  her 
head  significantly.  "You  shall  leave  me,  Father  Pedro, 
with  your  Dona  Isabel !  " 

Dofia  Feliz  and  Pedro  started  as  if  they  had  been  shot, 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  she  is  coming,"  continued  the  child. 
"  I  was  out  beyond  the  granaries,  letting  my  fawn  browse 
c  .1  the  little  hill,  and  as  I  was  looking  toward  the  r;orgc  I 
saw  a  horseman  coming,  and  far  beliind  him  was  a  car- 
riage and  many  men.  Is  all  ready?"  and  she  glanced 
around  her  with  the  air  of  a  prophetess.  "Hark!  the 
courier  is  in  the  court  now.  Doiia  Isabel  will  not  be  long 
behind  him." 

Pedro  hastened  from  tlie  room  with  an  exclamation  of 
alarmed  amazement.  "  Go,  go  !  "  cried  Feliz.  *'  You  are 
too  late !  "  for  she  knew  in  her  heart  that  it  was  in  very 
fear  of  this  visit,  and  to  remove  the  child  from  the  chance 


118 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


'Ill 


!-i. 


I  II! : 


1-;!: 


of  encountering  Dona  Isabel,  that  Pedro  had  proposed 
to  leave  the  hacienda ;  and  here  was  Dona  Isabel  her- 
sell",  —  for  stranf^ely  enough,  neither  of  them  dinibted  that 
wliat  tlie  cliild  had  assmned  was  true.  The  tlionghts  of 
Dona  Feliz  were  inexplicable  even  to  herself.  She  felt  as 
though  she  was  placed  in  some  vast  and  gloom}'  theatre, 
with  the  curtain  about  to  rise  upon  some  strange  play, 
which  at  the  will  of  the  actors  might  become  cither  comedy 
or  tragedy.  Though  of  late  she  had  felt  certain  that  Dona 
Isabel  would  return  to  the  hacienda,  that  very  act  seemed 
dramatic,  the  precursor  of  inevitable  complications. 

"  Why  could  she  not  be  content  in  the  new  life  she  had 
chosen?"  muttered  Doiia  Feliz.  "What  voice  has  been 
sounding  in  her  ears,  to  call  her  back  to  resurrect  old 
griefs,  to  walk  among  the  spectres  of  long-silent  agonies 
and  shame?  Foolish,  foolish  woman!  Yet  as  the  mag- 
net attracts  iron,  so  thy  hard  heart  is  drawn  by  these 
bitter  remembrances.  Go,  go  !  thou  child  ! "  she  ex- 
claimed aloud,  and  almost  angrily.  "  Dona  Isabel  would 
be  vexed  to  see  thee  in  her  room.  Go,  and  keep  thee  out 
of  her  way ! "  She  gazed  after  Chinita  with  a  look  of 
perpkixity  and  pain,  as  with  a  bound  of  irresistible  excite- 
ment the  girl  sprang  out  upon  the  corridor,  her  laugh  rising 
still  air  as  if  in  notes  of  defiance.  "What 
I?  "  muttered  Doiia  F'eliz.  "  '  Leave  me  with 
Isabel'?" 


through  the 


\  ■ 

10 


[Iji; 


i 


I  proposed 
[sabcl  her- 
nibtcd  that 
thoughts  of 
She  felt  as 
ny  theatre, 
angc  play, 
iier  comedy 
I  that  Dona 
act  seemed 
ions. 

life  she  had 
c  has  been 
isurrcct  t)ld 
ent  agonies 
IS  the  mag- 
m  by  these 
!"  she    ex- 
[sabel  would 
eep  thee  out 
h  a  look  of 
stible  excite- 
laugh  rising 
ic.     "What 
:avc  me  with 


XVII. 

From  the  city  of  Guanapila  to  the  hacienda  of  Trcs  Hcr- 
manos  the  road  runs  almost  continually  through  mountain 
defiles,  where  on  either  hand  the  great  masses  of  bare 
rocks  rise  so  precipitously  that  it  seems  impossible  that 
man  or  beast  should  scale  them  ;  and  here,  where  Nature's 
aspect  is  most  terrible,  man  is  least  to  be  feared.  But 
there  are  intervals  where  broad  tlat  ledges  hang  above  the 
roadway,  or  where  it  crosses  plateaus  shaded  by  scrub- 
oak  or  mesquite  and  even  grass}-  dells,  where  after  the 
rams  water  may  be  found,  offering  charming  camping- 
grounds  during  the  noon-tide  heat ;  and  precisely  at  such 
places  the  anxious  traveller  has  need  to  look  to  his  wea- 
pons, and  picket  his  horses  and  mules  in  such  order  that 
no  sudden  attack  may  cause  a  stampede  among  them,  and 
that  they  ma}'^,  if  need  offer,  form  a  barricade  for  their 
defenders.  In  those  lawless  times  few  persons  ventured 
forth  without  a  military  escort,  and  if  possible  sought  ad- 
ditional security  by  accompanying  the  baggage  trains 
which  by  arrangement  with  the  party  for  the  moment  in 
power  enjoyed  immunity  from  attack  b}'  roving  bands  of 
soldiery,  and  were  too  formidabl  to  be  successfully  as- 
sailed by  the  ordinary  cliques  of  highwaymen.  Seldom 
indeed  was  there  found  a  person  so  reckless  as  to  venture 
forth  attended  only  by  the  escort  his  own  house  afforded  ; 
and  daring  indeed  was  the  woman  who  would  undertake  a 
two  clays'  journey  in  such  a  manner.  The  least  she  might 
expect  would  be  to  find  her  protectors  disper^od,  perhaps 
slain,  and  herself  a  captive,  —  held  for  an  ex .  -bitant  ran- 
som, and  subjected  to  the  liardshi[)s  of  life  in  the  remote 
recesses  of  the  mountains,  and  to  indignities  the  very 
report  of  which  might  daunt  the  most  reckless  or  the 
bravest. 

Yet  in  spite  of  all  this,  a  carriage  containing  a  lady  and 
her  maid  —  for  such  were  their  relative  positions:  though 


liiil 


120 


en  ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


W 


m 


i  i 


% 


L 


lif'' 


It'll 


iili.   i 


i   I  lit: 


I 


iili. 


l^iil 


both  were  alike  dressed  in  plain  black  gowns  and  the 
common  blue  reboso  —  entered  in  the  early  afternoon  of  a 
summer's  day  the  narrow  gorge  that  led  by  circuitous 
windings  tln'ougli  the  rocks  to  the  great  gorge  that  ibrmetl 
the  entrance  to  the  wide  valley  of  Tres  llcrnianos,  whose 
entire  extent  otl'ered  to  the  eye  the  wondrous  fruitfulness 
so  rich  and  varied  in  itself,  so  startling  in  contrast  to  the 
desolation  passed  to  reach  it. 

The  midday  halt  had  been  a  short  one,  for  it  was  the 
rainy  season,  and  progress  was  necessarily  slow  over  the 
swollen  watercourses  and  the  obstructions  of  accumulated 
sands  and  pebbles,  the  masses  of  cactus  and  branches  of 
trees  and  shrubs,  which  had  been  brought  down  by  recent 
storms.  At  times  it  seemed  impossible  that  the  carriage, 
although  drawn  by  four  stout  mules,  could  proceed,  and 
from  time  to  time  the  servant  looked  anxiously  through 
the  window.  But  the  mistress  was  equal  to  all  emergen- 
cies, herself  giving  directions  to  the  per[)lexed  driver  and 
his  assistant,  and  though  she  had  been  travelling  for 
more  than  two  da3s  over  a  road  usually  easily  passed  in 
one,  allowing  no  sign  or  word  of  weariness  or  impatience 
to  escape  her. 

But  this  carriage  and  its  occupants  would  have  appeared 
to  a  passer- by  the  least  important  factor  in  the  caravan  of 
which  it  formed  a  part ;  for  it  was  encircled  and  almost 
concealed  by  a  band  of  mounted  men,  clad  in  suits  of 
brownish  leather,  glimpses  of  the  red  waist-band  glisten- 
ing with  knives  and  pistols  showing  from  beneath  their 
striped  blankets,  long  knives  and  lassos  hanging  at  their 
saddle-bows,  rifles  in  their  sinewy  right  hands,  while  from 
beneath  their  wide  hats  their  keen  eyes  investigated  sharply 
every  jutting  rock  and  peered  into  the  distance  with  an  air 
of  half-defiant,  half-fearful  expectancy,  —  for  these  were 
men  taken  from  her  own  estate,  who  idle  retainers  as 
they  had  been  in  her  great  bare  house  in  the  cit}"^  where 
Dofia  Isabel  Garcia  had  lived  for  years  in  melancholy 
state,  thrilled  with  clannish  fidelity  to  their  mistress  and 
passionate  love  for  their  tierra  to  which  they  were  return- 
ing, and  with  that  vague  delight  in  the  possibility  of  :i 
fight  which  arouses  in  man  both  chivalrous  and  brutish 
daring,  as  the  smell  of  blood  arouses  the  love  of  slaughter 
in  the  tamest  beast. 


i'K'M 


CIIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


121 


5vns  and  the 
Ftcrnoon  of  a 
jy  circuitous 
3  that  Ibnned 
uanos,  wliosc 
s  fruitfulness 
)ntrast  to  tlvo 

or  it  was  the 
low  over  tlic 
accumulated 
d  brtinchea  of 
[)wn  by  recent 
,  tlic  carriage, 
proceed,  and 
iously  through 
)  all  cmergen- 
icd  driver  and 
travelling  for 
isily  passed  in 
J  or  impatience 

• 

have  appeared 
the  caravan  of 
ied  and  almost 
lad  in  suits  of 
it-band  glistcn- 
1  beneath  their 
langing  at  their 
nds,  while  from 
stigated  sharply 
ance  with  an  air 
-  for  these  were 
He  retainers  as 
1  the  city  where 
\  in  melancholy 
iir  mistress  and 
iiey  were  return - 
possibility  of  n 
ous  and  brutish 
love  of  slaughtci- 


In  front  of  these  rode  the  conductor  of  the  party  clad  in 
a  haif-niilitary  fashion,  as  became  the  character  he  had 
earned  for  eccentric  daring,  the  reputation  of  which  per- 
haps more  than  actual  braver}'  made  liim  eminently  suc- 
cessful in  guiding  safely  the  party  wise  or  rich  enough  to 
secure  his  escort.  This  man  was  known  as  Tio  Keyes, 
tliough  his  ai)pearancc  did  not  justify  the  honorar}'  title  of 
Uncle,  for  he  was  still  in  the  prime  of  life ;  but  it  was 
applied  to  him  in  tones  of  jesting  3'et  affectionate  respect 
by  his  followers  who  had  joined  the  part}-  with  him,  and 
adopted  by  the  ethers  to  whom  he  was  a  stranger,  — for  at 
the  last  moment  he  had  appeared  just  as  they  were  leav- 
ing Guanapila,  and  with  a  brief  word  to  the  mistress,  to 
which  in  much  surprise  and  some  annoyance  she  had 
agreed,  bad  placed  himself  at  their  head. 

In  the  rear  of  those  we  have  described  came  four  or 
five  mules  laden  with  provisions,  necessaries  for  camping, 
and  some  private  baggage  ;  these  were  driven  by  arrieros 
who  ran  at  their  sides,  for  the  travelling  pace  of  horses 
did  not  exceed  that  of  those  trained  runners. 

The  journey,  wearisome  as  it  had  proved,  had  so  far  been 
made  without  alarms,  and  upon  nearing  the  boundaries  of 
Tres  Hermanos  much  of  the  anxiety  though  none  of  the 
vigilance  of  he  escort  subsided  ;  when  suddenly  upon  the 
glaring  sunshine  of  the  day,  all  the  hotter  and  clearer  from 
the  recent  rains,  rose  in  the  distance  a  sort  of  mist,  which 
filled  the  narrow  road  and  blurred  the  outline  of  the  tower- 
ing rocks.  The  guide  paused  for  a  moment  and  glanced 
back  at  the  escort.  Each  hand  grasped  tighter  the  ready 
rifle ;  at  a  woi'd  the  carriage  was  stopped,  the  baggage 
mules  were  driven  up  and  enclosed  within  the  square  hastily 
formed  by  the  armed  men,  —  for  upon  that  clear  day,  after 
tlie  rains,  the  tramp  of  many  feet  was  requisite  to  raise 
that  cloud  of  dust,  and  these  precautions  were  but  pru- 
dent, whether  the  advancing  troop  were  friends  or  foes. 

Tio  Re3-es,  after  disposing  his  force  to  his  satisfaction, 
rode  forward  with  his  lieutenant  to  meet  the  advancing 
host,  which  in  those  few  moments  seemed  to  fill  the  entire 
range  of  vision,  though  at  first  with  confusing  indistinct- 
ness, as  did  the  sounds  that  came  echoing  from  rock  to 
rock.  The  cries  of  men  rose  hoarsely  above  a  deep  and 
rumbling  undertone,  which  resolved  itself  at  last  into  the 


*f.?-it! 


122 


CI/ATA    AND   CHINITA. 


V^'^ 
|,'.||. 


f' '' 

!' '' 
(ii, 

Ii! 


('I 


lowing  of  cattle  and  the  bleating  of  sheep,  —  harmless  and 
terrified  wayfarers,  but  driven  and  preceded  by  a  trooi)  of 
undisciplined  soldiery,  ripe  for  deeds  more  tragic  than  the 
plunder  of  vaqueros  and  shepherds,  vvlio  would  be  more 
likely  wisely  to  seek  shelter  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks 
than  to  def}'^  numbers  before  whom  they  were  helpless. 

''Soilora  of  my  soul!"  cried  the  servant,  catching  a 
word  from  one  of  the  men,  "we  are  lost!  Virgin  of 
Succors,  pray  for  us !  These  are  some  of  the  men  of  his 
Excellency  the  Governor,  and  you  know  they  stop  at 
nothing.  Ah,  what  a  chance  to  gain  mone}'  is  this  !  Once 
in  the  mountains  what  may  they  not  demand  for  you? 
Ave  3faria  Sanctissima !  Ah,  Seiiora,  if  you  would  but 
have  listened  to  the  Seiiorita  !  to  me  !  " 

"  Silence  I"  said  the  lady,  in  a  tone  as  of  one  unused 
to  hear  her  actions  commented  upon.  "  Silence !  thou 
wilt  be  safe.  If  we  are  captured,  thou  wilt  not  be  a  prize 
worth  retaining ;  it  will  be  easy  to  induce  them  to  take 
thee  to  Guanapila,  and  obtain  a  reward  from  my  cousin, 
Don  Hernando." 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  the  woman,  brought  to  her  senses  b}^ 
this  quiet  scorn  and  the  startling  proposition  of  her  mis- 
tress. "  Could  I  leave  your  grace  ?  No,  no !  imprison- 
ment, starvation,  even  to  be  made  the  wife  of  one  of 
those  bandits  !  "  and  a  faint  smile  curled  the  damsel's  lip, 
for  she  was  not  \xg\y,  and  knew  something  of  the  gallan- 
tries of  Ramirez's  followers, —  "  anything  rather  than  de- 
sert my  lady!     Ay,  my  Ufe !  whom  have  we  here?" 

It  was  Tio  Reyes  undoubtedly,  and  with  him  was  a 
military  stranger,  a  gallant  young  fellow,  and  handsome, 
though  his  hands  and  face  were  covered  with  dust,  and 
something  like  a  large  blood-stain  defaced  the  breast  of 
his  blue  coat,  "  Pardon,  Seiiora,"  he  exclaimed,  bowing 
most  obsequiously  and  removing  his  wide  hat,  disclosing 
a  young  and  vivacious  countenance,  "I  am  Rodrigo  Alva, 
your  servant,  who  kisses  your  feet,  captain  of  this  troop  of 
horse,  of  the  forces  of  his  Excellency  Don  Jos6  Ramirez, 
Governor  of  Guanapila." 

"  And  I  am  the  Seiiora  Dona  Isabel  Garcia  de  Garcia," 
responded  the  lady,  with  dignified  recognition  of  the  young 
man's  courteous  self-introduction;  "and  as  I  am  unaware 
of  any  cause  for  detention,  1  beg  to  be  permitted  to  pro- 


■.m\ 


*.a 


C II ATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


123 


given 


coed  tow.ird  my  hacienda,  which  I  desire  to  rcucli  before 
night  closes  in." 

''  It  is  not  ray  desire  to  molest  ladies,"  said  the  captain, 
gallantly ;  "  and  1  have  besides  received  exi)ress  orders  to 
defend  your  passage  and  facilitate  it  in  every  way." 

"1  have  no  acquaintance  witli  Seiior  Ramirez,"  said 
Dona  Isabel  in  suri)rise ;  "  yet  more  than  once  have  1 
been  indebted  to  his  courtesy,"  and  she  glanced  at  Tio 
Reyes.  ''  lie  it  was  who  sent  me  this  worthy  guide.  I 
know  not  wh^'  the  Seiior  Ramirez  takes  such  interest  in 
my  personal  safety,  especially  as  we  are  politically 
oi)posed ; "  and  she  added  with  a  daring  which  had 
somewhat  of  girlish  archness,  strange  from  tlie  lips  of 
Doiia  Isabel,  "he  has  not  the  name  of  a  man 
to  gallantries." 

*'No,  rather  to  gallant  deeds,"  said  the  young  captain, 
his  voice  accentuating  the  distinction.  "  13ut  3'ou,  Dona 
Isabel,  like  us  who  serve  him,  must  be  content  not  to 
inquire  too  closely  into  his  motixiS." 

"  Whatever  they  may  be,"  retorted  she,  in  a  voice  of 
displeasure,  "  they  are  not  such  as  will  spare  my  flocks 
and  herds ; "  and  she  frowned  as  a  stray  ox,  upon  whose 
flank  she  recognized  the  well-known  brand  of  Tres  Iler- 
manos,  bounded  b}'  the  carriage,  from  which  the  escort 
had  gradually  withdrawn,  and  were  now  exchanging 
amicable  salutations  with  the  more  advanced  of  the  host 
which  the}'  would  have  been  equally  pleased  to  fight. 

The  3"oung  man  bowed  in  some  confusion.  "  The  men 
must  be  fed,"  l)e  said.  "  These  come  from  the  ranchito 
del  Refugio,  Senora,  and  I  regret  to  say  the  huts  arc 
burned  down  and  the  shepherds  and  vaqucros  scattered ; 
one  poor  fellow  was  killed  in  pure  wantonness." 

"  And  you  dare  tell  me  this ! "  cried  Doiia  Isabel,  in 
violent  indignation,  which  for  the  moii.  3nt  overcame  her 
wonted  calmness. 

"  It  was  but  to  explain,"  interrupted  Captain  Alva, 
"  that  we  encountered  the  famous  Calvo  there.  He  has 
succeeded  in  raising  three  hundred  men  or  more  to  march 
to  the  assistance  of  the  double-dyed  traitor  Juarez. 
Fortunately,  but  a  portion  of  his  troops  were  with  him ; 
the  rest  have  joined  Gonzales,  —  so  our  work  was  easy, 
though  the  fellows  fought  well.    Three  or  four  were  killed, 


m 


I 


;;  'i~: 


I'J 


Ml 


'')  \l 


m    I    i 


124 


CIIATA   AND   CllINITA. 


a  few  wounded,  the  rest  lied  to  the  mountains,  and  we 
succeeded  in  securing  tlie  cattle  and  sheep ;  and  I  hope 
your  grace  will  be  consoled  in  knowing  they  are  destined 
to  feed  good  patriots." 

Dona  Isabel  waA'ed  her  hand  impatiently.  "  What 
matter  a  few  ai.imals?"  she  said.  "  lUit  the  poor  shep- 
herds,—  they  must  be  looked  to.  And  the  wounded  — 
what  of  them?" 

"  (7am<//a/"  laughed  the  captain,  carelessly,  "one  or 
two  are  with  us  here,  tied  on  their  saddles.  The}'  will 
do  well  enough.  Others  lay  down  under  bushes  to 
shelter  their  cracked  heads.  Bui  one  there  is,  Senora,  a 
foreigner,  a  mere  boy,  who  was  in  the  party  by  chance 
they  say,  just  a  boy's  freak,  —  but,  my  faith !  he  did  a 
man's  portion  of  fighting,  and  has  a  wound  to  end  a 
man's  life.  He  must  die  if  he  rides  much  farther  lashed  to 
his  horse  ; "  and  the  young  soldier,  half  a  bandit  in  law- 
lessness, and  in  his  perplexed  notions  of  honor,  perhaps 
too,  scarce  free  from  blood-guiltiness,  sighed  as  he  added, 
"  but  this  is  no  subject  for  a  lady's  ear.  Permit,  Senora, 
that  my  troops  and  their  belongings  pass  by,  and  you  may 
then  proceed  in  all  peace  and  safet}'." 

"  Thanks,  Seiior,"  said  Doiia  Isabel,  adding  half  hesi- 
tatingly :  "  And  the  wounded  youth,  —  a  foreigner,  I  think 
you  said?" 

"By  his  looks  and  tongue,  English,"  answered  the 
officer,  with  his  hand  to  his  hat  as  a  parting  salute. 
But  Doiia  Isabel's  look  stopped  him. 

"  You  pity  this  poor  wounded  creature,"  she  said,  "and 
I  can  do  no  less.  You  arc  compelled  to  travel  in  haste,  and 
the  city  —  if  that  is  your  destination  —  is  far  distant." 

Dofia  Isabel  spoke  as  if  under  some  invisible  compul- 
sion and  as  against  her  will,  and  paused  as  if  unable  to 
utter  the  proposal  that  trembled  on  her  lips ;  but  the 
voluble  young  officer,  with  the  eagerness  of  desire,  divined 
what  she  would  sa}',  and  so  lauded  the  appearance  and 
bearing  of  the  wounded  prisoner  that  to  her  own  amaze- 
ment Doiia  Isabel  found  herself  making  room  for  him  in 
her  carriage,  much  to  the  surprise  of  her  maid  Petra,  who 
was  mounted  upon  the  led  horse,  which  in  thought  her 
mistress  had  at  hrst  destined  to  the  use  of  her  unexpected 
guest. 


Mv 


C II ATA   AND  CIIINirA. 


125 


,"    answered   the 


However,  when  under  the  siii)erintendencc  of  Captain 
Alvu  and  Tio  Reyes  the  youth  was  transferred  from  his 
horse  to  the  carriage,  Dona  Isabel  saw  at  once  that  his 
strength  was  so  nearly  spent  that  even  with  most  careful 
lituuUing  it  was  doubtful  whether  he  would  reach  the 
liticienda  alive.  She  shrank  away  as  his  fair  young  head 
was  laid  back  upon  the  dark  cushions,  and  iiis  long  limbs 
were. disposed  upon  blankets  and  cushions,  as  iniicli  to 
avoid  contact  with  that  frame  so  evidently  of  alien  mould 
as  to  give  all  the  space  possible  to  the  almost  unconscious 
siitferer.  She  scarce  looked  at  him,  as  with  effusive 
tlianks  Alva  bade  her  farewell,  but  forced  her  eyes,  though 
with  no  special  interest  or  regret,  upon  tiie  portion  of  her 
Hocks  that  was  driven  bleating  before  her  carriage, 
with  mechanical  kindness  closing  the  window  as  the 
horned  cattle,  bellowing  and  pawing  the  dust,  followed, 
and  breathing  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the  last  of  the  revolu- 
tionary force  rode  by,  and  the  sound  of  their  nois}'^  march 
grew  fainter,  and  she  realized  that  her  own  escort  had 
fallen  into  their  places  around  her  carriagrj,  the  slow 
motion  of  which  indicated  that  her  interrupted  journc}' 
was  resumed. 

For  some  time  the  thoughts  of  Dona  Isabel  were  neces- 
sarily directed  to  hor  wounded  guest.  The  wound  in  the 
shoulder  had  been  bandaged  with  such  skill  and  care  as 
could  be  oifered  by  the  self-trained  doctor  of  the  rancho,  for 
the  nonce  become  army  surgeon ;  and  it  would  doubtless 
have  done  well  but  for  exposure  and  fatigue,  which  had 
I  induced  fever,  in  which  the  patient  muttered  uneasily  and 
[even  at  times  became  violently  excited,  looking  at  Dona 
Isabel  with  eyes  of  inexpressible  brilliancy,  catching  her 
cool  white  hands  in  his  own  burning  ones  and  calling  her 
in  endearing  accents  names  which,  though  untranslatable 
jby  her,  were  sweet  to  her  ear.  Perhaps,  they  were  those 
[of  mother  or  sister,  —  she  almost  longed  to  know.  Later, 
[when  under  her  tendance  and  that  of  the  grooms,  who 
[when  she  motioned  for  the  carriage  to  be  stopped  often 
[came  to  her  assistance,  he  sank  into  uneasy  slumber,  she 
[had  opportunity  to  wonder  at  the  impulse  that  had  in- 
jdiiced  her  to  receive  this  stranger  of  a  race,  that  whether 
[American  or  English,  she  had  long  abjured,  and  to  feel 
[once  more  as  she  gazed  upon  his  wan  features  something 


ri 

1' 

i 

!  !ll 

iiiili 
1 

1, 

i 

i    ! 

1 

1 

1' 

1 

1 
'1 

i! 

m 


It  I 


II 

hi 

I! 

m 

[ft- 


V2C> 


CHAT  A   A  A'/)  CIIINITA. 


of  tho  bitter  dotoHtatioii  with  which  she  had  lookc'd  upon 
Ashley's  ileud  I'mH!. 

hofijv  Isjibi'l  stsirti'd  ;  the  thon<j;ljt  had  cnttM'ed  her  Jiiind 
just  Jis  they  were  emer«;in^  IVom  the  <j;rettt  chasm  of  rocks 
which  ^iive  entniiKu;  to  the  pluin,  mid  slie  suw  once  inort! 
the  K(ien  iVoiii  whicli  she  Imd  been  (h'ivttn.  The  iiouse 
was  so  far  distant  still  that  she  can<j;ht,  across  the  (lelds 
of  tall  corn,  bnt  a  niere  sn^jjjestion  of  its  Hat  roofs  and  tlu! 
scpiare  turrets  at  the  (forners  of  the  encirclinjj;  walls ;  bnt 
thon<:;h  more  distant  still,  the  tall  (^hinmey  of  the  rcdnction- 
worUs  rose  clearly  defined  aj^ainst  the  sky,  —  so  clearly  that 
she  could  sec  where  u  few  bricks  had  falli^n  froni  the 
cornice,  and  how  a  solitary  pij^eon  was  cir(!lin<;  it  in  set- 
tling to  its  nest.  What  a  picture  of  solitariness  !  DoHa 
Isabel  groaned,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hand.  It 
was  as  she  had  known  it  would  be.  Tho  first  ob'<icts  to 
meet  licr  gtizc  were  those  that  could  waken  tho  darkest 
and  bitterest  memories.  \Vhy  had  she  come?  Oh  that 
she  could  retrace  the  rough  path  that  she  had  traversed  ! 

The  wounded  man  groaned  ;  he  was  fainting.  "Hasten, 
hasten !  "  she  cried,  ''  send  Ansebno  forward  ;  bid  thcan 
j)repare  a  bed.  The  road  is  not  so  rough  ;  let  them  drive 
faster !  " 

Thus  Dona  Isabel's  words  belicid  tlic  desire  of  her  heart, 
for  she  could  not  by  her  own  wish  have  approached  her 
home  too  slowl}'.  Tliis  boy  Avas  a  stranger,  not  oven 
brought  thither  by  her  will,  as  the  other  had  been  ;  yet  as 
the  other  had  driven  her  forth,  this  one  was  hastening  her 
back.  Was  it  fancy,  or  did  the  boy's  lips  pronoiuice  a 
name?  No,  no!  it  was  but  her  excited  imagination.  No 
wonder !  Ditl  not  tho  earth  and  sky,  the  wide  circle  of 
the  hills,  all  cry  out  to  her,  "  What  hast  thou  done? 
Where  is  Ilerlinda?" 


lu'ss!     Dona 


10  V     Oh  tliat 


XVllI. 

Ar.Tnouon  Cliiiilta  had  (h'vinod  mi<,'ht  wlion  she  declared 
that  tlui  eania^o  h\h'.  had  hvvu  in  the  diHtaiioi!  could  h(!  no 
other  than  that  of  Dona  Isalicl,  and  tlie  Hounds  which 
penetrated  from  the  court  aiinounciid  th(!  arrival  of  her 
outrider,  she  was  wron*^  in  Hupposing  that  the  lad}'  herHc;!!' 
would  bo  Hpeedily  at  hand.  TluMe  was  a  long  delay  In 
which  Dofia  Feliz  had  time  to  recover  outwardly  from 
the  agitation  into  which  she  was  thrown,  and  accustom 
herself  to  this  verification  of  her  foresight,  wluni  ujjon 
hearing  of  the  marriage  of  Carmen  she  had  felt  a  convic- 
tion that  Dona  Isabel  in  her  loneliness  and  the  nnaccus- 
totned  lack  of  interests  around  her  would  be  irresistibly 
attracted  to  the  home  sIk;  had  virtually  forsworn. 

Don  Rafael  having  listened  eagerly  to  the  courier's 
account  of  the  meeting  with  Ramirez's  band,  lell  him  to 
give  fuller  d(!tails  to  the  anxious  villagers  who  gather(!d 
around, —  many  of  whom  had  sons  or  husbands  at  that 
j)!irt  of  the  hacienda  lands  known  as  the  ranchito  del 
Refugio,  —  and  rushed  up  to  Dona  Feliz  with  the  news, 
then  down  again  to  the  court  to  mount  a  horse  which  had 
been  instantl}'  saddled,  f>nd  followed  by  a  clerk  and  ser- 
vants galloped  away  to  give  meet  welcoinc  to  the  lad}' 
who  had  just  entered  upon  her  own  domains. 

Calling  the  maids,  Dona  Feliz  caused  the  long-disused 
beds  to  be  spread  with  fresh  linen,  and  completed  the  pre- 
parations for  this  vaguely  yet  confidently  expected  arrival. 
"  She  had  felt  it  in  tin;  air,"  she  said  to  herself,  for  she 
knew  nothing  of  any  theor}^  of  second  sight,  nor  had  even- 
reasoned,  on  the  other  hand,  that  even  the  most  trivial 
circumstances  of  life  must  work  toward  some  given  re- 
sult, which  they  instinctively  foreshadow  to  the  observant, 
as  the  bodily  eye  makes  out  the  rellcction  of  a  material 
object  in  a  dinnned  and  b(!smir('lied  mirror.  She  bestirred 
herself  as  if  in  a  dream,  her  mind  lull  of  Dona  Isabel  and 


fill 


128 


ClIATA  AND   CniNITA, 


V\i 


JM, 

ii' 

Jm' 


«■■ 


ii 


I   II 


'Ii   ii 


i||i* 


ill 

ii 


in!  ill 


I!" 


II 


the  ptist.  Yet  like  nn  undorcurrcnt  bonoath  the  Hood  of 
hor  tlioufifbtp  llowod  the  icUjti  of  the  new  element  that 
Dofia  Isabel  was  hiiiij^iiijj;  with  her.  "  K  foreigner  !  "  slie 
muttered,  as  if  slie  could  scarce  believe  her  wortls.  "  Can 
it  be  possible  that  the  hand  once  stung  can  dally  again 
with  the  seor[)ion?  Ah,  no!  necessity  wears  tlie  guise 
of  heresy,  but  it  Ib  not  possible  that  Douu  Isabel  can 
forget." 

She  glanced  around  her ;  Chinita  had  disappeared. 
Dofia  Feliz  saw  her  no  more  until  the  long-delayed  car- 
riage rolled  into  the  court,  when  she  descended  to  greet 
Jier  mistress. 

The  long  summer's  day  had  almost  waned,  and  so  dark 
was  the  court  that  torches  of  pitch-pine  had  been  stuck 
into  rude  sconces  against  the  pillars,  and  the  face  of  Dona 
Isabel  looked  wan  and  ghastly  in  the  lurid  and  flickering 
glare.  She  could  not  descend  from  the  carriage  until  the 
wounded  youth  had  been  lifted  out.  Dona  Feliz  had 
never  seen  but  one  man  so  fair.  She  started  as  her  e3'es 
fell  upon  the  yellow  masses  of  hair  that  lay  disordered 
upon  his  brow,  but  pointed  to  a  chamber  which  a  woman 
ran  to  open,  and  into  which  the  stranger  was  carried  :  while 
Dona  Isabi  1,  crajuped  and  stilF,  leaned  upon  the  arm  of 
Don  Kafael.  and  stepped  to  the  ground.  As  she  did  so 
slie  would  have  fallen  but  for  two  strong  young  hands 
which  caught  hers,  and  as  she  involuntarily  held  them  and 
steadied  herself  she  turned  her  eyes  upon  the  face  which 
was  level  with  her  own.  Her  eyes  opened  widely,  and 
with  an  exclamation  of  actual  horror  she  threw  Chinita 
from  her  with  a  sudden  and  violent  struggle,  and  passed 
proudly  though  tremblingly-  across  the  court. 

Don  Rafael  and  Dona  Feliz  followed,  too  astounded  to 
make  one  movement  to  assist  their  lads's  ascent  of  tiie 
stairs  :  but  when  the}'  reached  the  corridor  and  heard  the 
door  of  the  bed-chamber  heavily  closed,  thc}'^  turned  toward 
each  other,  their  faces  pale  in  the  twilight.  "  Her  thoughts 
are  serpents  to  lash  her,"  murmured  Dona  Feliz  ;  adding 
with  a  sort  of  national  pride,  "  The  Castiilian  woman  may 
choose  to  ignore,  but  she  can  never  forget  or  forgive." 

Don  Rafael  shrugged  his  shoulders.  How  nmch  with 
some  races  a  shrug  may  signity !  His  then  was  one  of 
dogged  resolution.     "It  is  well,"  it  seemed  to  say;  and 


CHATA  AND   ClflNITA. 


129 


ho  muttered,  "  As  the  mistress  loads,  the  servant  must 
follow,"  while  his  mother,  shaking  her  head  doubtfully, 
pointed  to  the  court  below. 

Chinita  had  rushed  furiously  away  from  the  carriage 
and  the  group  of  men,  who  after  the  first  silence  of  Hur- 
prisc  had  broken  into  but  half-suppressed  laughter,  which 
was  soon  lost  in  the  babel  of  greetings  that  the  disappear- 
ance of  Dofta  Isabel  gave  an  opportunity  for  exchanging, 
and  scarcely  knowing  in  her  blind  rage  where  she  wont, 
had  thrown  herself  upon  one  of  the  stone  scats  that 
bordered  the  fountain,  and  with  her  small  clin(!//cd  fist 
was  beating  the  rugged  stone.  I*edro  stood  near  Uer,  his 
face  as  indignant  as  her  own,  vainly  endeavoring  with  a 
voice  that  shook  with  anger  to  soothe  her  wounded  pride, 
while  with  one  hand  he  strove  to  lead  her  away.  She 
spoke  not  a  word.  Suddenly,  as  the  young  face  o^  the 
girl  was  lifted  to  the  light,  Feliz  clasped  her  ha'.ds  to- 
gether, and  leaned  eagerly  forward.  She  motioned  to 
Don  Rafael,  —  she  would  not  break  the  spell  b>  speech ; 
but  unheeding  her  he  left  the  corridor  and  walked  away, 
and  presently  Pedro  was  obliged  to  hasten  to  his  duties  at 
the  doorway,  and  the  girl  and  the  woman  were  left  alone 
in  the  enclosure.  Dona  Feliz  leaned  motionless  over  the 
railing.  Chinita,  still  beating  the  stone  with  her  fist,  sat 
upon  the  edge  of  the  fountain.  With  her  native  instinct 
of  propriety,  to  meet  Dona  Isabel  she  had  put  on  her 
second  best  skirt  —  not  the  green  one  —  and  all  her  neck- 
laces circled  her  throat.  Her  hair  was  closely  braided, 
but  curled  wilfully  round  her  brow  and  the  nape  of  her 
neck.  She  pulled  at  it  abstractedly  in  a  manner  she  had 
when  excited.  Her  face  was  turned  aside,  but  to  Dona 
Feliz  there  was  something  strangely  familiar  in  her 
attitude,  —  something  which  suggested  other  personalities, 
but  of  whom  ;  which  recalled  the  past,  but  how  ? 

While  Chinita  still  sat  there.  Dona  Isabel  came  out  of  her 
chamber  and  crossed  to  the  side  of  Feliz.  Her  face 
quivered  as  her  eyes  fell  on  the  child,  and  she  laid  her 
nervous  white  hand  upon  Fcliz's  arm.  The  two  women 
looked  at  each  other,  but  said  not  a  word  ;  the  eyes  of  the 
one  were  full  of  reproach,  those  of  the  other  of  defiant 
distrust.  When  they  turned  them  upon  the  court  again, 
the  girl  had  moved  noiselessly  away.     Her  passion  of 


1'  *.-f 


tirm 


if;  I 


•K.. 


■  m 


Pk 


i 

r 

f 

1' 
1 

• 

:  II 

''1 

i  ii 

i 

1 

'  't, 

■ 

IK 
1 

W    '      '   ''! 

1; 

lil' 

!; 

i 

130 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


\\i 


anger  was  spent,  and  with  the  instinct  of  the  Indian 
strain  in  her  mixed  blood,  she  had  gone  to  hide  herself 
away  in  some  sheltered  corner  and  brood  sullenly  upon 
her  wrongs. 

As  she  passed  through  the  many  courts,  reaching  at 
last  that  upon  which  the  church  opened,  she  Tvas  so  ab- 
sorbed that  she  did  not  notice  she  was  closely  followed 
by  a  man  who  had  been  very  near  when  Dona  Isabel 
had  repulsed  her,  and  who  with  a  few  apparently  care- 
less questions  had  possessed  himself  of  all  there  was  to 
know  of  Chinita's  history. 

"  Look  you !  "  said  one,  "  did  not  Pedro  say  that  a  man 
as  black  as  the  devil  dropped  her  into  his  hands?  Who 
knows  but  she  is  the  fiend's  own  child?  Yaya^  she 
struck  me  over  the  face  with  talons  like  a  cat's  only 
last  week." 

"And  well  thou  deservedst  it,"  cried  the  boy  called  Pepe. 
But  he  was  laughed  down  by  a  shrill  majority,  for  Dona 
Isabel's  unaccountable  repulse  of  her  had  turned  the  tide 
of  public  opinion  strongly  against  the  foundling ;  and  the 
woman  toward  whom  Tio  Reyes  —  for  he  it  was  —  now 
turned  for  additional  particulars,  rightly  judging  that  in 
such  matters  female  memories  would  prove  most  explicit, 
crossed  herself  as  she  opined  "  that  the  fox  knows  much, 
but  more  he  who  traps  him,  and  that  Pedro  who  had 
found  the  girl  could  best  tell  whence  she  came,"  —  a  say- 
ing which  elicited  many  nods  and  exclamations  of  appro- 
val, for  Pedro  had  never  been  believed  quite  honest  in  the 
matter.  A  wild  story  that  he  had  received  the  babe  from 
the  hands  of  a  beautiful  and  pallid  spectre  which  had 
once  been  seen  to  speak  with  him  in  the  corridor,  and  that 
this  was  the  ghost  of  some  lovelj'^  woman  he  had  murdered 
in  those  early  days  when  he  and  Don  Leon  were  comrades 
in  many  a  wild  adventure,  had  passed  into  a  sort  of 
legend,  which  if  not  entirely  accepted,  certainly  was  not 
utterly  disbelieved  by  any  one. 

"  Go  thy  way !  She  is  the  devil's  own  brat,"  cried  the 
wife  of  the  man  Chinita  had  once  attacked. 

"  Ay,  to  be  sure !  "  cried  another ;  "  was  it  not  to  be 
remembered  how  she  had  struggled  and  screamed  when 
the  good  Father  Francisco  baptized  her,  and  had  sputtered 
and  spat  out  the  salt  which  the  good  priest  had  put  in 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


131 


it,"  cried  the 


her  mouth  like  a  very  cat.  And  little  good  had  it  done 
her,  for  she  had  never  been  called  by  a  Christian  name." 

"Tut!  tut!"  said  the  new-comer,  "what  need  of  a 
name  has  such  a  pretty  maid  as  that,  or  of  a  father  or 
mother  either  ?  Though  ye  women  have  no  mercy,  she  '11 
laugh  at  you  all  yet.  The  lads  will  not  be  blind,  eh 
Pancho?" 

"That  they  will  not!  "  cried  the  lad  Pep^,  throwing  a 
meaning  glance  at  Pancho  as  if  daring  him  to  take  up  the 
cudgels  in  behalf  of  his  old  playfellow.  "What  care  I 
who  she  is  ?  She 's  not  the  first  who  came  into  the  world 
by  a  crooked  road ;  and  must  al)  the  women  hint  that  it 
began  at  the  Devil's  door  because  3y  can't  trace  it  back  ? 
Ay,  they  know  enough  ways  to  the  same  place." 

"Well  said,  young  friend!"  cried  Tio  Reyes  with  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "But,  hist !  here  comes 
Pedro  —  with  an  ill  look  too  in  his  eye.  Ah !  I  thought 
so,"  as  the  men  suddenly  became  noisily  bus}'  with  the  un- 
saddling of  their  horses,  and  the  women  slipped  away  to 
their  household  occupations.  "  Tio  Pedro  is  not  a  man 
to  be  trifled  with.  But,  ah,  there  goes  the  girl ! "  and 
in  a  moment  of  confusion  he  adroitly  left  the  court  with- 
out being  seen,  and  as  has  been  said  followed  her  steps 
till,  as  she  crouched  behind  one  of  the  buttresses  of  the 
church,  he  halted  behind  another  and  looked  at  her  keenly, 
impatient  with  the  uncertain  light,  eager  to  approach  her 
before  it  darkened,  yet  waiting  stoically  until  she  was 
settled  in  a  sullen  crouching  attitude,  probably  for  that 
vigil  of  silence  and  hunger  in  which  a  ranchero's  anger 
usually  expends  itself,  or  crystallizes  into  a  revengeful 
memory. 

After  some  minutes,  during  which  the  girl  neither 
sobbed  nor  moved,  he  suddenly  bent  over  and  touched 
her  on  the  shouldei.  She  was  accustomed  to  such  intru- 
sions, and  shook  herself  sullenly,  not  even  looking  up  when 
an  unknown  voice  accosted  her.  "Hist,  thou!  I  have 
something  for  thee." 

"  I  want  nothing,  not  manna  from  Heaven  even." 

"'Twill  prove  better  than  that." 

"Then  keep  it  thyself.  Thou 'rt  a  stranger.  I  take 
neither  a  blow  from  a  woman  nor  a  gift  from  a  man." 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  man,  coming  a  little  nearer  and  laying 


M  i 


132 


en  ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


i 


I 
llli 

r 


!!l 


III*!'!, 


rv' 


a  hand  lightly  on  her  shoulder,  "  if  thou  wilt  have  no 
gift,  shall  1  tell  thee  something?" 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulder  uneasily  under  his  hand. 
"  I  am  not  a  baby  to  care  for  tales,"  she  said  contempt- 
uously ;  yet  the  man  noticed  she  turned  her  head  slightly 
toward  him. 

' '  Thou  art  one  of  a  thousand ! "  he  ejaculated  admir- 
ingl3\  "  Iley  now,  proud  one,  suppose  I  should  tell  thee 
who  thou  art,  —  what  wouldst  thou  give  Tio  Reyes  for 
that?" 

"  Bah  !  "  said  the  girl,  "  I  have  never  thought  about  it." 
Yet  she  was  conscious  that  her  heart  began  to  beat  wildly 
and  her  voice  sounded  faint  in  her  ears.  A  little  picture 
formed  itself  before  her  eyes,  of  Pepo  and  Marta  and 
Ranulfo  and  a  score  of  others,  waifs  of  humanity,  and  she 
herself  on  a  height  looking  down  upon  them.  She  had 
never  consciously  separated  herself  from  them,  —  she  had 
never  even  wished  that  she,  like  Uiem,  had  at  least  a 
mother ;  but  presently  she  was  coniscious  of  a  new  feeling. 
Yet  she  laughed  as  she  said,  "  X  was  born  then  like 
other  chikh-en,  —  I  had  a  mother?  " 

"  That  had  you  ;  but  I  am  not  going  to  sing  all  that 's  in 
the  book,  nina.  The  wise  man  talks  little  and  the  pru- 
dent woman  asks  few  questions,  and  thus  fewer  lies  are 
spoken." 

"But  thou  art  not  my  father?"  queried  Chinita,  inso- 
lently, yielding  to  a  sudden  apprehension  that  seized  her, 
and  turning  full  upon  the  stranger. 

"God  deliver  me!"  answered  he;  "badly  fared  the 
owl  that  nourished  the  young  eaglet." 

"  Tell  me  who  I  am  ! "  cried  Chinita,  in  a  sudden  pas- 
sion of  eagerness  clutching  the  man's  arm. 

"Tut!  tut!  tut!  that  is  not  my  business;  and  as  you 
will  not  hear  my  pretty  little  tale,"  —  for  Chinita  thrust 
him  violently  aside,  —  "I  will  give  you  but  one  word  of 
warning  and  be  gone :  the  old  hind  pushes  at  the  young 
fawn,  but  they  both  make  venison." 

Chinita  was  accustomed  to  the  obscure  phraseology  and 
sj'mbolical  meanings  of  ihe  thousand  proverbs  used  by 
her  country  people,  and  she  instantly  caught  the  idea  the 
speaker  sought  to  convey  ;  but  its  very  audacity  held  her 
silent  for  some  moments.     It  was  only  after  she  had  gazed 


CIIATA   AND  CHINITA. 


133 


lit  have  no 

or  his  hand. 
1  contcmpt- 
ead  shghtly 

latcd  admir- 
uld  tell  theo 
o  Heyes  for 

rht  about  it." 
o  beat  wildly 
little  picture 
\  Marta  and 
mity,  and  she 
iin.     She  had 
m,  —  she  had 
ad  at  least  a 
a  new  feeling, 
orn  then  like 

ig  all  that's  in 
i'and  the  pru- 
fewer  lies  arc 

Chinita,  inso- 
lat  seized  her, 

adly  fared  the    | 

a  sudden  pas- 

38 ;  and  as  you 

Chinita  thrust 

)ut  one  word  of 

2s  at  the  young 

phraseology  and 
'overbs  used  by 
nrht  the  idea  the 
Sdacity  held  her 
er  she  had  gazed 


ut  him  long  and  searchingly  that  she  could  stammer,  "  Dona 
Isabel  —  and  1  —  CUiinita  —  the  sanio  —  of  one  blood  ! " 

The  man  nodded,  but  put  his  finger  u[)on  liis  lip,  lie 
feared  perhaps  some  wild  outburst  of  surprise  or  exulta- 
tion;  but  instead  she  said  in  an  awed  whisper,  "is  she 
then  my  mother?" 

Tio  llcyes  leaned  against  the  church  and  burst  into 
irrepressible  though  silent  laughter.  "  What  next  will 
the  girl  dream  of  ?  "  he  ejaculated  at  length,  and  laughed 


11  gam 


''  What,  am  I  then  such  a  fool?  "  asked  Chinita,  coolly, 
though  with  inward  rage.  "  Look  you,  if  you  had  told 
me  yes,  1  would  not  have  believed  you  any  more  than 
1  believed  when  Seiior  Enrique  said  that  she  had  the 
young  American  killed  who  died  so  many  years  ago. 
IJah !  one  thing  is  as  foolish  as  the  other,"  and  she  turned 
jivvuy  disdainfully. 

''What!"  exclaimed  the  man,  eagerly,  "do  they  say 
that?  llumph  I  Well,  things  as  strange  as  that  have  hap- 
pened in  her  day." 

"  But  that  is  a  lie,"  cried  Chinita,  excitedly  ;  "  it  was  only 
because  Dona  Isabel  would  not  interfere  to  save  his  son 
Irom  being  shot  as  murderer  and  ladron  that  Enrique  said 
so.  He  went  away  himself  the  day  after,  and  he  it  was  who 
led  Calvo  to  the  rancho  del  Refugio.  But  what  has  that 
to  do  with  us  ? "  and  now  first,  perhaps  because  there  had 
been  time  for  the  matter  to  take  shape  in  her  mind,  she 
showed  an  eager  and  excited  curiosity.  "Tell  me  who  I 
am ;  you  surely  have  more  to  tell  me  than  that  I  was  born 
Garcia ! " 

The  man  stared,  then  cried,  "  And  is  not  that  enough? 
Why,  for  a  word  thou  canst  be  as  good  as  Doiia  Isabel's 
daughter.  With  that  face  of  tlxine  she  dare  not  refuse 
thee  anything." 

Chinita  looked  at  him  as  if  she  would  have  torn  his 
secret  from  him.  Strange  to  saj',  not  a  suspicion  that 
he  was  jesting  with  her  entered  her  mind.  Even  as  she 
stood  there  almost  in  rags,  she  felt  instinctively  that  she 
^\as  far  removed  from  him.  The  one  thought  that  she  was 
a  Garcia,  one  of  the  family  whom  she  looked  upon  as 
the  incarnation  of  wealth  and  power,  overpowered  every 
other  emotion,  even  that  of  curiosity.      She  was  vexed, 


I 


I 


I'm 


"-•*■■' -i r- 


\u 


CI/A/'A   AND   CUtNUA. 


i 


111 


! 


'Ill 


ii; 


li'i 


1, 

. 

! 

; 

i 

i 

gi.   1 

Iwiiriiul  that  ho  Haul  no  more,  y^'t-  r*'lt  ««  Uioii<j;li  hIk!  luul 
known  till,  and  IumI  ImiI.  for  u  inoniont  foi«j;oUtin.  Slio  oven 
tununl  awuy  IVoni  hnn  willi  si  nionioiitnrv  inipnlse  to  rnsli 
into  the  prt'siMUH!  of  Dofiii  IhhIu'1  iind  iissiiil  her  with  the 
erv,  "  Lot)k  at  me  !  Wliy  did  you  tlirust  nic  tiwiiy  ?  1  too 
!un  ft  (lurcia  !  " 

''  Stay  ! "  eried  Tio  lii^yes,  aa  she  started  from  liis  si(U> 
Her  wild  thon<jjhts  had  (iashed  by  ho  rapidly  that,  (piiek 
thon<!;h  he  was  tt)  read  the  eonntenanee,  he  had  (!an<jjht 
searee  an  inklinj;  of  what  had  passed  throni^h  her  mind, 
and  was  certain  only  of  the  half-dazed  dislike  with  which 
she  looked  at  him.     It  irritated  and  disai)pointed  hinu 

"What,  y:irl!"  lie  said,  'Ms  not  this  news  worth  so 
much  as  ft  'thank  you'?  Is  it  nothinfj;  to  you  whether 
you  are  the  dust  of  the  roadway  or  a  jewel  of  the  mine? 
Well,  I  lied  to  you.  All!  ah!  what  know  1  who  you  are? 
It  was  my  joke!  Tio  lleyes  always  likes  a  jest  with  a 
pretty  girl." 

"  lint  this  is  no  jest,"  paid  Chinita,  quick  to  perceive 
that  the  man  was  already  half  r(>[>entant  of  his  words ; 
"you  can  better  put  the  ocean  into  a  well,  than  shut  \\\} 
the  truth  when  it  is  once  out.  Ah,  I  did  not  need  you  to 
tell  me  1  was  no  begi!;ar's  brat,  picked  up  by  chtince  on  the 
plain.  1  have  heard  them  say  that  Pedro  has  rich  clothes 
which  I  was  wrapped  in.  He  has  always  laughi;d  at  nic 
when  I  have  asked  about  them,  but  all  the  same  ho  shall 
show  them  to  you  this  very  night." 

*'  Chut !  "  interrupted  the  man,  "  wlmt  should  I  know  of 
swaddling  clothes?  'T  is  just  ft  maid's  folly  to  think  of 
such  trilles.  They  would  not  prove  thee  a  (Jarcia,  r.ny 
more  than  the  lack  of  them  belies  it,  or  my  mere  word 
insures  it !  " 

"That  which  puzzles  mo  is,"  said  Chinita,  gravely, 
turning  her  head  on  one  side  and  looking  at  him  keenly 
by  the  dim  light,  "  why  you  have  told  me  this.  Have 
you  been  sent  with  a  message  from  —  from  those  who  left 
me  here?" 

"No,  by  my  faith,'  said  the  man,  laughing;  "and 
wliy  do  1  laiigii,  think  you?  Why,  you  are  the  first  one 
who  ever  asked  Tio  Reyes  for  a  reason.  Does  anybody 
wiio  knows  me  say,  '  Why  did  you  take  Don  Fulano  with 
all  his  dollars  safe  through  the  mountains,  and  then  alluw 


CllATA   AND  C.IHNITA. 


l.'if) 


tliJil  i)()or  devil  Do  Till,  wlio  hmi  not  ho  rmich  as  a  ''.>ur- 
IHiiiiiy  pieces,  to  lu;  shot  down  liko  a  doj^j  hy  the  wayHidu?' 
No,  t!V(!H  tli(5  villu}j;(!  i<liot  kiiowH  'I'io  itoyoH  Iihh  rcaHonH 
too  <j[io!it  to  b(i  toHHtid  from  ono  to  unotlittr  likt;  a  bull ; 
:iiul  ytit  you  ank  nu;  why  I  liavo  told  you  tlu!  Hucrot  I  liuvt! 
kt'pt  Cor  yt!urH,  and  piiiiiajw  oxpciot  an  aiiHWcrl  No,  no! 
(hat  [>hnn  iu  not  ri[)c  enough  to  lull  at  the  lirst  pull'  of 
wind." 

''  1  will  tell  you  one  thin  ',  though  you  tell  me  nothing," 
said  (Jhinita,  Hhrewdly,  aller  a  pause  :  "  It  i.s  not  from  lovo 
to  Dona  Isaluil  that  you  have  told  me  thiH,  nor  for  love  of 
nie  either.  What  ^ood  have  you  done  mo  by  telling  mo  I 
am  a  (Janna?  Why,  if  1  had  had  the  otinse  of  a  parrot, 
I  might  nave  known  it  before;."  It  Hoemed  to  her  iu  her 
excitement  as  if,  indeed,  she  had  always  known  it. 

"  A  word  to  the  wise  is  enough,"  said  the  man,  myste- 
riously. "  Keep  your  knowledge  to  yourself,  j)ut  use 
it  to  your  advantage.  You  wore  sent  like  a  package  to 
Dona  Isabel  years  ago,  but  stopped  by  a  clumsy  mes- 
senger. She  finds  you  in  her  i)ath  now ;  lot  her  find 
something  alive  under  the  shabby  coverings.  God  puts 
many  a  sweet  nut  in  a  rough  shell,  man}'  a  poison  in 
despised  weeds ! " 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Chinita,  with  a  wicked  little  laugh,  though 
even  at  that  moment  the  chords  of  kinship  thrilled,  "  I  am 
but  a  weed  to  Dona  Isabel,  oh?  Shall  I  go  to  her  and 
say,  'Here  is  a  Garcia  to  be  trodden  down'?" 

She  said  this  with  so  superb  an  air  of  derision  that  the 
man  who  unconsciously  all  his  life  had  been  an  inimitable 
actor  in  his  way,  muttered  a  deep  caramba  of  enthusiastic 
admiration. 

"I  would  by  all  the  saints  I  could  stay  here  to  sec 
how  you  will  goad  and  sting  my  grand  Senora,"  he  said 
vindictively.  "  Ay,  remember  you  are  a  Garcia,  with  a 
hundred  old  scores  to  pay  off.  I  have  f)ut  the  cards  in 
your  hands,  —  patience,  and  shufllc  them  well !  " 

"Patience,  and  shuflle  your  cards,"  —  those  cards  simply 
the  knowledge  that  she  was  a  (iaroia,  with  presumably 
the  wrongs  of  parents  to  avenge.  The  thoughts  wore  not 
very  clear  in  her  mind,  but  the  instincts  of  resentment  of 
insult  and  of  filial  devotion  were  those  which  amid  so 
much  that  is  uugeuerous,  cvU,  and  fierce,  ever  pervade  the 


'  :n 


E 


130 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


% 


iii. 


!l 


r'"iii 


\\. 


•iii; 


i! 


breast  of  the  Mexican.  She  turned  again  to  ask  almost 
imploring)}',  "  My  father — my  mother  —  who  were  they?" 
when  she  Ibund  she  was  alone.  The  stranger  had  extorted 
no  promise  of  secrecy,  ofl'ered  no  bribe ;  it  was  as  if  ho 
had  put  a  weapon  in  her  hand,  knowing  that  its  very  pre- 
ciousness  and  subtlety  would  prevent  her  from  revealing 
whence  she  had  received  it,  and  would  indicate  the  use 
to  which  it  was  to  be  turned. 

Chinita  leaned  against  the  buttress  and  pondered. 
Strangely  enough,  she  did  not  for  a  moment  think  to 
seek  the  man  and  demand  further  explanation.  As  she 
felt  he  had  divined  her  character,  so  she  divined  his. 
He  had  said  all  he  would  say.  Alter  all,  it  was  enough. 
At  the  end  of  an  hour  she  left  that  spot,  which  she 
never  saw  after  without  a  thrill  of  the  heart,  and  walked 
straight  to  the  doorway  where  Pedro  sat.  He  was  eating 
his  supper  mechanically,  with  a  disturbed  countenance, 
which  cleared  when  ho  saw  her. 

"1  y  are  tamales  de  chile^  daughter,"  he  said,  pusL- 
ing  toward  her  the  platter,  upon  which  lay  some  morsels 
of  corn-pastry  and  pepper-sauce,  wrapped  in  corn-leaves. 
"  Eat,  thou  must  be  hungry." 

Pedro  sighed,  for  perplexity  and  vexation  had  destroyed 
his  own  appetite,  and  thought  enviously,  as  Chinita's  white 
teeth  closed  on  the  soft  pastry,  which  was  yellow  in  com- 
parison, "It  is  a  good  thing  nothing  but  unrequited  love 
keeps  the  young  from  supping,  —  and  that  only  for  a 
time.'* 

The  gate-keeper  watched  Chinita  narrowly  as  she  was 
eating  and  drinking  atole  from  the  rough  earthen  jar. 
There  was  some  change  in  her  he  could  not  understand, 
quite  different  from  the  passion  in  which  he  had  last  seen 
her,  or  the  languor  which  would  naturally  succeed  it.  She 
did  not  talk,  and  something  kept  him  from  referring  to  the 
scene  in  the  courtyard ;  he  felt  that  she  would  resent  it. 
Two  or  three  times  she  bent  over  him  and  touched  his 
hand  caressingly ;  yet  he  was  not  encouraged  to  smooth 
her  tangled  hair,  or  offer  any  of  tlioso  awkward  proofs  of 
affection  which  she  was  wont  to  receive  and  laugh  at  or 
return  as  the  humor  seized  her ;  neither  did  he  remind  her 
that  it  was  getting  late,  but  at  last  rose  and  took  from  his 
girdle  the  key  of  the  postern. 


CHATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


137 


"Put  it  back,  Pedro!"  she  said  in  her  softest  voice. 
"  I  shall  never  sleep  in  tlic  liut  witli  Florencia  and  tlio 
childrcL  again ;  yet  be  not  afraid,  1  will  not  go  to  the 
corridor  either.  Tlierc  is  room  and  to  spare  in  yon  great 
house."  She  nodded  toward  the  inner  court,  muttered 
a  good-night,  and  before  Pedro  could  recover  from  his 
surprise  sulHciently  to  speak,  swiftly  crossed  tL  .  patio 
aucl   disappeared. 

Pedro  looked  after  her  stupefied.  He  realized  that  a 
great  gulf  had  opened  between  them ;  that  figuratively 
speaking,  his  foster-child  had  left  him  forever,  lie  looked 
like  one  who,  holding  a  pet  bird  loosely  in  his  hand,  had  be- 
held it  suddenly  escape  him,  and  soar  across  a  wide  and 
bridgcless  chasm.  Would  it  dash  itself  into  atoms  against 
the  opposite  ciilfs,  or  perchance  reach  a  safe  haven  ?  Such 
was  the  essence  of  the  thoughts  for  v-hich  Pedro  framed  no 
words.  "  God  is  great,"  he  muttered  at  length,  "  and 
knows  what  He  does  ;  "  adding  with  a  sort  of  heathen  and 
dogged  obstinac}',  '*  but  Pedro  still  is  here ;  Pedro  does 
not  forget  nifla  I "  He  looked  up  as  if  to  some  invisible 
auditor,  crossed  himself,  then  wearily  threw  himself  upon 
his  [)allet ;  but  weary  as  he  was,  the  strong  young  subject 
of  his  cares  was  sunk  in  deep  and  dreamless  sleep  long 
before  he  closed  his  eyes. 


% 


% 


XIX. 


■  '"I 


k 


iH 


i:;iill 


I'lt'llMli 


ll'lll.i 


1. 

\t' 

• 

ii' 

'  i'l 

!i'' 

.  ■, 

1 

■  , 

V    • 

li 

.11 

i      !■                 '    1     <    '  \ 

■j 

n 

i 

i  ii 
11 

ill 

i 
1 

) 

i 

i 
; 

i 

i 
1 

Once  within  the  court,  Chinita  paused  and  looked 
aroiuiLl  her  cautiously.  The  doors  of  tlie  lower  rooms 
stood  open,  and  she  might  have  entered  any  one  of  them 
unnoticed  and  found  a  shelter  for  the  night.  But  she 
was  in  no  mood  for  solitude.  Indeed  it  was  hard  for  her 
to  check  a  certain  wild  impulse  that  seized  her,  as  she 
saw  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  which  streamed  through  a 
slight  opening  of  a  door  on  the  upper  corridor,  and  that 
urged  her  to  rush  at  once  into  the  presence  of  Dona  Isabel 
and  claim  recognition.  To  what  relationship,  and  to 
what  rights,  she  did  not  ask  herself;  a  positive  though 
imdefined  certainty  that  Dona  Isabel  herself  would  know, 
and  would  be  forced  to  yield  her  justice,  possessed  her. 

Chinita  was  now  a  child  neither  in  stature  nor  mind, 
but  though  so  young  in  years,  had  reached  the  first  de- 
velopment of  her  powers  with  the  mingled  precocity  of  the 
Indian  and  Spaniard,  fostered  by  a  clime  that  seems  the 
very  elixir  of  passion.  She  had  been  maturing  rapidly  in 
the  last  few  months,  and  as  she  stood  that  night  in  the 
faint  starlight,  the  last  trace  of  childhood  seemed  to  drop 
visibly  from  her.  She  folded  her  arms  on  her  breast,  and 
sighed  deeply,  —  not  for  sorrow,  but  as  if  she  breathed  a 
life  that  was  new  to  her,  and  her  lungs  were  oppressed 
by  the  weight  of  a  strange  and  too  heavily  perfumed 
atmosphere. 

In  her  absorption  Chinita  was  unconscious  that  she  was 
observed,  —  but  it  chanced  that  Don  Rafael  Sanchez  and 
his  mother  had  just  left  the  Senora  Doiia  Isabel,  and  were 
passing  through  the  upper  corridor  to  their  own  apart- 
ments. The  gallery  was  wide  and  they  were  in  the  shadow, 
but  a  stray  gleam  of  light  touched  the  upturned  face  of  tlic 
girl  and  exhibited  it  in  strong  relief  within  the  framing 
of  her  waving  hair.  As  they  caught  sight  of  it,  they 
involuntarily  paused  to  look  at  her. 


youn 

not 

mira( 

what 

Isabc 

"  f 
stand 
him 

u 

ohani 
—  tk 
men  I 
surni 


CI/ATA   AND   CUINITA. 


139 


"I  do  not  wonder," whispered  B'eliz," tluit  8ueh  a  face 
is  an  accusing  conscience  to  Dona  Isabel.  There  is  a 
strange  familiarity  in  every  feature ;  and  what  a  spirit,  too, 
she  Ims,  —  one  even  to  glory  in  strife  ! " 

Don  Rafael  nodded.  "  There  has  always  seemed  to  me 
something  in  that  child  to  mark  her  as  the  offspring  of  a 
dominant  famil^'/'he  said  ;  "  it  is  inevitable  that  she  must 
break  the  lines  an  adverse  Fate  has  cast  about  her. 
Others  such  as  she  stretch  out  a  hand  to  Vice ;  if  some- 
thing better  comes  to  her,  who  are  we  to  hinder  it?  " 

The  brow  of  Dona  Feliz  contracted.  "  Ay,  Rafael," 
she  murmured,  ''  what  a  change  a  few  miserable  years 
have  wrought !  Once  1  was  a  sister  to  Doiia  Isabel,  and 
now — " 

"You  are  no  traitress,"  interposed  Don  Rafael, "  and 
it  is  by  circumstance  only  that  the  change  has  come. 
Console  yourself,  dear  mother,  and  remember  we  are 
pledged.  Though  we  seem  false  to  her  mother,  only  so 
can  we  be  true  to  Herlinda." 

He  breathed  the  name  so  low  that  even  Donr.  Feliz  did 
not  hear  it ;  she  listened  rather  to  the  beating  of  the  heart 
that  seemed  to  repeat  without  cessation  the  name  of  one 
so  loved  and  lost.  "  How  strange  it  is,  Rafael,"  she  said 
prcsentl}',  "that  I  have  such  persistent,  such  mocking 
dreams,  which  against  my  reason,  against  all  precedent, 
create  in  me  the  belief  that  all  is  not  ended  for  Herlinda 
Garcia." 

Don  Rafael  looked  at  her  musingly. 

"  There  is  a  man  called  Juarez  who  has  dreams  such  as 
yours,"  he  said  ;  "  but  they  are  of  the  freedom  of  a  race, 
not  of  one  woman  alone.  But  he  is  hardly  able  to  work 
miracles.  Yet,  mother,  this  truly  is  the  time  of  prodigies ; 
what  think  you  this  boy,  the  young  American  that  Doiia 
Isabel  brought  hither,  calls  himself  ?  " 

"  I  have  asked  him,"  she  said,  "but  he  did  not  under- 
stand me.  Oh,  Rafael !  my  heart  stood  still  when  I  saw 
him  first;  yet  after  all  he  is  not  so  very  like — " 

"Yet  he  has  the  same  name,  Mother.  It  maj'  be  but 
chance  ;  those  Americans  arc  half  barbarians  as  we  know, 
—  they  forget  the  saints,  and  seek  to  glorify  their  great 
men  by  giving  their  children  as  Christian  names  the 
surnames  of  those  who  have  distinguished  themselves  in 


I 


Ih 


■\\ 


t: 


It 


m 


• 

!|!!i 

140 


C//ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


!S 


ik 


.:|ir  \ 

"I.,. 

i 

1  „  ' 

j 

■'•iii: 

1. 

*  1 1 

battle  or  statesmansliip.  Sometimes,  too,  a  mother  proud 
of  the  surname  of  her  own  family  gives  it  to  her  son.  It 
may  have  been  so  with  this  man.  When  I  gave  him  pen 
and  pai)er,  and  bade  him  write  his  name,  it  was  thus : 
'  Ashley  Ward.' " 

The  name  as  spoken  by  Don  Rafael  was  mispronounced, 
would  have  been  hardly  recognizable  in  the  ears  of  him 
who  owned  it ;  yet  to  Dona  Fcliz  it  was  like  a  trumpet 
blast.  "  Strange  !  strange  !  strange  !  "  she  repeated  again 
and  again.     "Can  it  be  mere  chance?" 

"  That  we  shall  soon  know,"  said  Don  Rafael.  "  These 
Americans  blurt  out  their  affairs  to  the  first  comer, 
expecting  help  from  every  quarter.  There  is  no  rain  that 
falls  but  that  they  fancy  it  is  to  water  their  own  field. 
Nay,  mother,"  as  Doiia  Feliz  made  a  movement  toward 
the  stairway,  "  go  not  near  the  man  to-night ;  he  has 
fever,  and  is  in  need  of  quiet.  Old  Selsa  is  with  him,  and 
he  can  need  no  better  care.  He  is  safe  to  remain  here 
many  days ;  let  him  rest  in  peace  now.  And  do  you, 
mother,  try  to  sleep ;  you  are  weary  and  worn." 

With  the  filial  solicitude  of  a  true  Mexican,  the  m..n, 
already  middle-aged,  took  his  mother's  hand  fondly  and  led 
her  to  the  door  of  her  own  apartment.  There  she  detained 
him  long  in  low  and  earnest  conversation,  and  when  on 
leaving  her  he  looked  down  into  the  court  it  was  entirely 
deserted. 

In  glancing  around  her,  Chinita's  e3'es  had  caught  no 
glimpse  of  the  figures  above,  perhaps  because  they  had 
been  diverted  by  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  at  one  angle  of 
the  courtyard ;  and  remembering  that  this  came  from 
the  room  to  which  the  wounded  man  had  been  carried,  she 
darted  swiftly  and  noiselessly  toward  it,  and  in  a  moment 
had  pushed  the  door  sufficiently  ajar  to  admit  of  her 
entrance,  and  had  passed  in.  She  arrested  her  footsteps 
at  the  foot  of  the  narrow  bed,  which  extended  like  a  bier 
from  the  wall  to  the  centre  of  the  room.  There  was  not 
another  article  of  furniture  in  the  apartment,  except  a 
chair  upon  which  the  sick  man's  coat  was  thrown ;  but 
Chinita's  eyes,  accustomed  to  the  vault-like  and  vacant 
suites  of  square  cells  that  made  up  the  greater  part  of  the 
vast  building,  were  struck  with  no  sense  of  desolation.  A 
slender  jar  of  water,  and  a  number  of  earthen  utensils  of 


pi  e 


CI/ ATA   AND   CirfNITA. 


141 


(lifTorcnt  forma  and  shapes,  containing  modicamcnts  and 
f(KKl,  were  gathered  upon  the  floor  near  the  J)ed's  head ; 
and  on  a  deep  window-ledge  was  placed  a  sputtering  tallow- 
candle,  which  had  already  half  liilod  with  groaac  the  clay 
sconce  in  which  it  was  sunk. 

As  Chinita  leaned  ever  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  peered 
through  her  unkempt  locks  at  its  occupant,  he  looked  up 
with  a  start,  and  presently  said  something  in  an  appeal- 
ing tone,  which  certainly  touched  her  more  than  the 
words,  could  she  have  unclerstood  them,  would  have  done. 
He  had  in  fact  exclaimed  in  English,  with  an  unmistaka- 
ble American  intonation,  "  Heavens,  what  a  gypsy !  and 
what  can  she  want  here  in  this  miserable  jail  they  have 
left  me  in?" 

She  thought  ho  had  perhaps  asked  for  water,  so  she 
gave  him  some,  which  was  not  unacceptable, — though  it 
irritated  him  that  after  giving  him  the  cup,  she  took  up 
the  candle  and  held  it  close  to  his  face  while  he  drank. 
She  was  in  the  mood  for  new  impressions  however  rather 
than  for  kindness,  and  the  sight  of  a  strange  face  pleased 
her.  Burning  with  fever  though  he  was,  and  tossing  with 
all  the  impatience  natural  to  his  condition,  he  could  not 
but  notice  the  totally  unaffected  ease  with  which  she 
made  her  inspection.  He  might  have  been  a  curly-headed 
infant  instead  of  a  man,  so  utterly  unconcernedly  did  she 
look  into  his  dark-blue  eyes,  and  note  the  broad  white 
brow  upon  which  his  damp  yellow  hair  clustered,  even 
touching  lightly  with  her  finger  the  firm  white  throat 
bared  by  the  opened  collar  sufficiently  to  expose  the  clumsily 
arranged  dressings  on  the  wounded  shoulder.  Instantly, 
with  a  few  deft  movements,  she  made  them  more  com- 
fortable, for  which  the  young  man  thanked  her  in  a  few  of 
the  very  i  3anty  words  of  Spanish  at  his  command,  —  at 
which  she  laughed,  not  ironically,  but  with  a  sort  of  nervous 
irrelevance,  thinking  to  herself  the  while,  "  He  is  beautiful 
—  bless  me,  yes !  as  beautiful  as  they  say  the  murdered 
American  was !  Who  knows  ?  this  one  may  come  from 
the  same  district!  It  must  be  but  a  little  place,  his 
country, — there  cannot  be  such  a  very  great  world  outside 
the  mountains  yonder;  they  touch  heaven  everywhere. 
Look  now,  how  white  his  arms  are,  and  his  brow,  where 
the  sun  has  not  touched  it !   and  how  red  his  cheeks ! 


hV 


,»• 


mmmm 


142 


CIIATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


i' 


J! 


!'ii"">*ii 


1 

1. 

(  • 

I  i 

4 

1 

'V 

[' 

J!!:    i 


#, 


Hut  that  must  bo  with  the  fever."  Ami  so  lialf  audibly 
she  made  her  comments  upon  the  wounded  stranger,  seem- 
ingly entirely  unconscious  or  regardless  tliat  there  was  any 
mind  or  soul  within  this  body  she  so  franlily  admired,  — 
lifting  liis  unwounded  arm  sometimes,  or  turning  his  faco 
into  better  view,  as  she  might  have  done  parts  of  a 
mechanism  that  pleased  her. 

"  Evidently  she  thinks  me  wooden,"  ho  said  with  a 
gleam  of  humor  in  his  eyes.  "  As  I  am  dumb  to  her,  she 
believes  mo  also  senseless  and  sightless.  Thanks,  for 
taking  away  that  ill-smelling  candle,"  as  with  the  olfend- 
ing  taper  in  her  hand  she  passed  to  the  other  side  of 
the  bed.  Then  she  stopped  and  laughed,  and  ho  remem- 
bered that  he  had  seen  the  old  woman  who  had  been  left 
in  charge  of  him  arrange  her  sheepskins  there  and  throw 
herself  upon  them.  Until  the  young  girl  had  come,  old 
Selsa's  snores  had  vexed  him  ;  since  that  he  had  forgotten 
them,  though  now  they  became  audible  again.  As  Chinita 
laughed,  she  placed  the  candle-stick  upon  the  window-ledgo 
and  looked  around  her,  stretching  herself  and  yawning. 
The  hour  was  late  for  her,  the  diversion  caused  b}-  sight 
of  tho  blond  stranger  and  the  little  service  she  had  ren- 
dered him  had  relaxed  the  tension  of  her  mind,  and  she 
felt  herself  aweary ;  the  shadows  fell  dark  in  every  corner 
of  the  room,  —  there  was  something  grewsome  in  its  aspect 
even  to  Chinita's  accustomed  eyes.  It  subdued  her  wild 
and  reckless  mood,  and  she  scanned  the  place  narrowly 
for  something  upon  which  she  might  lie.  Presentl}"  the 
young  man  saw  her  glide  toward  the  sleeping  nurse,  and 
deftly,  with  a  half  mischievous,  half  triumphant  expression 
upon  her  face,  draw  out  one  of  the  sheepskin  mats  upon 
which  the  old  woman  was  lying,  and  taking  it  to  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  bed  arrange  it  to  her  liking  upon  the 
brick  floor,  and  sinking  upon  it  softl}'  and  daintily  as  a 
cat  might  have  done,  compose  herself  to  sleep. 

The  candle  on  the  window-sill  sputtered  and  flickered ; 
old  Selsa  snored  in  her  corner,  seemingly  undisturbed 
b}^  the  abstraction  of  a  part  of  her  bed ;  the  shadows  in 
the  apartment  grew  longer  and  longer;  the  eyelids  of 
the  young  girl  closed,  her  regular  breathing  parted  her  full 
lips.  The  young  man  had  painfully  raised  himself  upon 
one  arm,  and  assured  himself  of  this.    He  himself  was 


ClfATA   AND  cm  NIT  A. 


143 


dropping;  ofT  into  flnatohos  of  8lnm])cr  which  promised 
to  bocoinc  profound,  wiicn  suddenly  with  a  wtjirt  ho 
found  himself  wide  awake,  and  staring  at  a  draped 
fif^ure  which  had  noiselessly  glided  into  his  chamber.  Save 
for  the  candle  it  bore  he  woidd  have  thought  it  n.  visi- 
tant from  another  world ;  but  liis  first  surprise  over,  ho 
recognized  it  as  that  of  a  woman.  Ho  was  conscious 
that  his  heart  beat  wildly ;  his  fever  had  returned. 
Where  had  he  seen  this  pale  proud  face,  these  classic 
features,  these  dark  penetrating  eyes?  For  a  mojuent 
again  he  felt  as  if  swinging  between  heaven  and  earth, 
between  life  and  death.  Ah !  yes,  ho  comprehended,  — 
he  had  been  brought  thither  in  some  swaying  vehicle, 
and  this  woman  bad  been  beside  him ;  she  perhaps  had 
saved  his  life. 

lie  murmured  a  word  of  thanks,  but  she  did  not  notice 
it.  "  Sefior,"  she  said  in  a  voice  soft  in  courtesy,  "  I  pray 
you  forgive  me  that  I  had  for  a  little  time  forgotten  my 
guest.  I  trust  you  lack  for  nothing  ?  Ah !  what  —  alone  ?  " 
and  with  a  frown,  she  made  a  motion  as  if  to  awaken 
the  servant  Selsa.  He  understood  the  gesture  though 
not  the  words,  and  stopped  her  by  one  as  expressive. 

"No,  no!"  ho  exclaimed.  "I  too  shall  sleep;  and 
slie  is  old.  I  would  not  awaken  her.  See,  if  I  need  any- 
thing a  touch  of  my  hand  will  rouse  this  girl,"  —  and  the 
young  man  indicated  by  a  turn  of  his  head  and  arm  the 
recumbent  figure  which  his  visitor  had  not  observed. 

With  some  curiosity  she  moved  to  the  opposite  side  of 
the  bed,  and  bending  over  lightly  removed  the  fringe  of  the 
rcboso  which  shaded  the  face  of  the  sleeper.  Dofia  Isabel 
started,  and  a  slight  exclamation  escaped  her  lips  as  she 
turned  hurriedly  away,  — as  hurriedly  returning,  and  shad- 
ing the  candle  with  her  hand,  that  its  light  might  not  fall 
upon  the  eyes  of  the  sleeper,  she  gazed  upon  the  young 
girl  long  and  earnestly.  Unmindful  of  herself,  she  suffered 
the  full  glare  of  the  candle  to  illuminate  her  own  coun- 
tenance ;  and  as  he  looked  upon  it,  the  young  American 
thought  it  might  serve  as  the  very  model  for  the  mask  of 
tragedy.  Nothing  more  pitiless,  more  remorseless,  more 
sombre  than  its  expression  could  be  imagined  ;  yet  as  she 
gazed,  a  flush  of  shame  rose  from  neck  to  brow.  Her  eyes 
clouded,  her  breath  came  with  a  quick  gasp.     She  stood 


M      -^ 


r 


144 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


f''^. 


% 


for  a  moment  clasping  the  rod  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  with 
her  white  nervous  hand ;  she  looked  at  the  American 
fixedly,  yet  she  seemed  to  have  no  consciojisness  that 
she  herself  was  seen ;  and  presently,  with  the  alow  move- 
ment of  a  somnambulist,  so  absorbing  was  her  thought, 
she  turned  to  the  d<x>r. 

Ashley  was  watching  her  intently ;  suddenly  her  light  was 
extinguished,  and  she  vanished  as  if  dissolved  in  air.  He 
was  calm  enough  to  remember  that  she  had  spoken  to  him, 
to  know  that  she  could  be  no  phantom  of  his  imagination, 
ana  to  suppose  that  upon  stepping  into  the  corridor  she 
had  extinguished  her  light,  and  sped  noiseless'^  along  the 
wall  to  some  other  apartment ;  yet  for  a  long  time  a  feeling 
of  my  story  oppressed  him,  and  he  could  not  sleep.  A  vague 
consciousness  of  some  strange  influence  near  him  kept  him 
feverish,  with  all  his  senses  on  the  alert ;  yet  he  heard  no 
movement  of  the  woman  who  crouched  within  the  doorway, 
leaning  against  the  cold  wall,  and  who  during  the  long  silent 
night  passed  in  review  the  strange  evenLs  that  had  brought 
her  —  the  Senora  Isabel  Garcia  de  Garcia  —  to  guard  the 
slumbers  of  a  foundling,  the  foster-child  of  a  man  so  low 
in  station  as  the  gate-keeper  of  her  house. 


f  \ ;  :■ 


"  m 


lii- 


liiifr'f'Mi 


■;;■  il 


illt 


he  bed  with 
3  American 
usness  that 
»low  move- 
ler  thought, 

her  light  was 
[  in  air.  He 
oken  to  him, 
imagination, 

corridor  she 
is'^  along  the 
Ame  a  feeling 
jep.  A  vague 
him  kept  him 
t  he  heard  no 

the  doorway, 
the  long  silent 
tt  had  brought 
-to  guard  the 

a  man  so  low 


XX. 

Dona  Isabel  Garcia  had  been  bom  within  the  walls 
of  Tres  Hcrmanos,  her  father  having  been  part  owner  of 
the  estate,  and  her  mother  the  daughter  of  an  impoverished 
gentleman  of  the  neighboring  city  of  Guanapila.  Doiia 
Clarita  had  been  a  most  beautiful  woman,  whose  attractions 
had  been  utilized  to  prop  the  falling  fortunes  of  her  house 
by  her  marriage  with  the  elderly  but  kindly  proprietor  Don 
Ignacio  Garcia. 

At  the  time  of  her  marriage,  Clarita  Rodriguez  was  very 
young,  and  with  the  habits  of  submission  universal  among 
her  countrywomen  would  probably  have  taken  kindly  to  her 
fate,  never  doubting  its  justice,  but  that  from  her  balcony  she 
had  one  day  seen  a  young  officer  of  the  city  troop  ride  by 
in  all  the  magnificence  of  the  military  uniform  of  the  period. 
A  dazzling  vision  of  gold  lace  and  braid,  clanking  spurs 
and  sabre,  and  of  eyes  and  teeth  and  smile  more  dazzling 
still,  haunted  her  for  weeks.  Yet  that  might  have  passed, 
but  that  the  vision  glided  from  the  eye  to  the  heart,  when 
on  one  luckless  night,  at  the  governor's  ball,  Pancho  Valle 
was  introduced  to  her,  and  they  twice  were  partners  in  that 
lover's  delirium  the  slow  and  voluptuous  danza.  As  they 
moved  together  in  the  dreamy  measure,  a  few  low  words 
were  exchanged,  —  commonplace  perhaps  but  not  harmless, 
and  by  one  at  least  never  to  be  forgotten.  Afterward  an 
occasional  missive  penned  in  most  regular  characters  upon 
daintily  tinted  paper  came  to  her  hands  through  some  com- 
plaisant servant.  But  Don  Ranulfo  Rodriguez  was  too 
jealous  a  guardian  to  suffer  many  such  to  escape  him,  and 
had  been  far  too  wise  in  his  generation  to  place  it  in  his 
daughter's  power  to  engage  in  such  dangerous  pastime  as 
the  production  of  replies  to  unwelcome  suitors.  Like  most 
other  girls  of  her  age  and  position,  Clarita  had  been  strenu- 
ously prevented  from  learning  to  write,  and  it  is  doubtful 
if  she  ever  knew  the  exact  import  of  Vallo's  perfumed 

10 


riffip 

m 

1     P.:| 

1  ,[■        i'        ! 
■ 

i' 

!■)':      !l 


i!; 


pi.;!.!^   ■) 


^:-'i  I 


146 


CHAT  A   AND   CHINJTA. 


missives,  although  her  heart  doubtless  guessed  what  her 
eyes  could  not  decipher. 

Whether  Vallo's  impassioned  glances  meant  all  the}-  in- 
dicated or  not,  certain  it  was  that  he  had  not  ventured  to 
declare  himself  to  the  father  as  a  suitor  for  the  fair  Clarita's 
hand,  when  Don  Ignacio  Garcia  stopped  in  and  literally 
carried  awa}'  the  prize.  The  courtship  had  been  short, 
the  position  of  the  groom  unassailable.  Clarita  shed  some 
tears,  but  the  delighted  father  declared  they  were  for  joy 
at  her  good  fortune  ;  and  they  were  indeed  of  so  mixed  a 
character  —  baffled  love,  wounded  pride,  and  an  irrepres- 
sible sense  of  triumph  at  her  unexpected  promotion  —  that 
she  herself  scarce  cared  to  analyze  them.  She  danced 
with  Valle  once  again  on  the  occasion  of  her  marriage ; 
again  a  few  words  were  spoken,  and  the  passionate  heart 
of  Clarita  was  pierced  with  a  secret  dart,  which  never 
ceased  to  rankle. 

Don  Ignacio  Garcia  conducted  her  immediately  to  the 
hacienda,  where  his  jealous  nature  found  no  cause  for  sus- 
picion ;  and  there  the  little  Isabel  was  born ;  and  on  be- 
holding the  wealth  of  maternal  aifection  which  the  young 
wife  lavished  upon  her  child,  the  husband  forgot  the  in- 
difference that  had  sometimes  chafed  him,  and  for  a  few 
brief  months  imagined  himself  beloved.  This  egotistic 
delusion  was  never  dispelled,  for  at  its  height,  upon  the 
second  anniversary  of  their  wedding  day,  when  taking 
part  in  a  bull-chase,  Don  Ignacio's  horse  swerved  as  he 
urged  him  to  the  side  of  the  infuriated  animal ;  a  mo- 
ment's hesitancy  was  fatal ;  the  horse  was  ripped  open  by 
the  powerful  horn  of  the  bull,  and  plunging  wildly,  fell  back 
upon  his  luckless  rider,  whose  neck  was  instantly  broken- 
It  was  an  accident  which  it  seemed  incredible  could  have 
happened  to  a  man  so  skilled  in  horsemanship  as  was  Don 
Ignacio.  The  spectators  were  for  a  moment  dumb  with 
horror  and  surprise,  then  with  groans  and  shrieks  rushed 
to  the  rescue,  but  only  to  lift  a  corpse.  Dona  Clarita  with 
a  wild  shriek  had  fainted  as  the  horse  plunged  back,  and 
upon  regaining  her  senses,  threw  herself  in  an  agony  of 
not  unremorseful  grief  upon  the  body  of  her  husband.  It 
was,  however,  of  that  violent  character  which  soon  ex- 
pends itself;  and  before  the  funeral  obsequies  were  well 
over,  she  began  to  look  around  the  narrow  horizon  of  Trc"? 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


147 


II  they  in- 
jntured  to 
r  Clarita'3 
d  litcniUy 
een  short, 
shed  some 
ere  for  joy 
so  mixed  a 
in  irrepres- 
tion— that 
She  danced 
r  marriage; 
ionate  heart 
which  never 

lately  to  the 
ause  for  sus- 
;  andonbe- 
[•h  the  young 
forgot  the  m- 
and  for  a  few 
this  egotistic 
crht,  upon  the 
"when  taking 
,werved  as  he 
Qimal;  a  mo- 
ipped  open  hy 
rildly,fell^ac^ 
jtantly  broken, 
ble  could  have 
lip  as  was  Don 
ent  dumb  with 

shrieks  rushcil 
>na  Clarita  with 
nged  back,  anil 

in  an  agony  o 

er  husband.    ^^ 

'which  soon  ex- 

jquies  were  well 

horizon  of  Trc;? 


Ilcrmanos,  and  remember,  if  not  rejoice,  that  she  was  free 
to  go  beyond  it. 

Don  Grcgorio,  the  cousin  of  Clarita's  husband's,  though 
a  mere  boy,  had  been  brought  up  on  tlie  estate,  and  was 
competent  to  take  charge,  and  the  administrador  and 
clerks  were  trusty  men ;  so  there  was  no  absolute  reason 
why  the  3'oung  widow  should  remain  to  guard  her  inter- 
ests and  those  of  her  child,  and  it  seemed  but  natural 
she  should  return  to  her  father's  house,  at  least  during 
the  Ih-st  months  of  her  sorrow.  Thither  indeed  she 
went.  She  had  dwelt  there  before,  a  dependent  child,  to 
be  disposed  of  at  her  father's  will ;  she  returned  to  it  a 
rich  widow,  profuse  of  her  favors  but  tenacious  of  her 
rights,  one  of  which  all  too  soon  proclaimed  itself  to  bef 
that  of  choosing  for  herself  a  second  husband.  A  month 
or  two  after  her  arrival  in  the  citv,  Don  Pancho  Vallc  re- 
turned  from  some  expedition  in  which  patriotism  and  i)er- 
sonal  gain  were  deftly  combined,  with  the  halo  of  success 
added  to  his  personal  attractions,  and  was  quick  to  declare 
an  unswerving  devotion  to  the  divinity  at  whose  shrine  ho 
had  worshipped  but  doubtfully  while  it  remained  ungilded 
by  the  sun  ct*  prosperity.  Whether  Clarita  had  learned  to 
read  or  not,  certain  it  is  that  Don  Pancho's  impassioned 
missives  met  with  a  response  more  satisfactory  than  pen 
and  ink  alone  could  give,  for  immediately  after  the  expira- 
tion of  the  3'ear  due  to  the  memory  of  Don  Ignacio,  she 
became  the  wife  of  the  gay  soldier. 

Don  Pancho  and  his  wife  were  both  young,  both  equally 
delighted  in  excitement  and  luxury ;  and  within  an  in- 
credibly short  time  the  ample  resources  which  had  seemed 
to  them  boundless  were  perceptibly  narrowed.  To  the 
taste  for  extravagant  living,  for  gorgeous  apparel,  for 
numerous  and  magnificent  horses,  shared  by  them  in  com- 
mon, were  added  a  passionate  love  of  gambling,  and  a 
scarcely  less  expensive  one  for  military  enterprises  of  an 
independent  and  half  guerilla  order,  on  the  part  of  Don 
Pancho ;  and  thus  a  few  years  saw  the  wife's  fortune 
reduced  to  an  encumbered  interest  in  the  lauds  of  Tres 
Hermanos. 

Don  Pancho  in  spite  of  numerous  infidelities  still  re- 
tained his  influence  over  the  heart  and  mind  of  Clarita ; 
and  one  night  in  play  against  Don  Gregorio  Garcia  — 


j.;   ,'5  ^,Mii,J 


148 


CHATA  AND   CHINTTA. 


I 


n 


!      ,|lli 


liilitelii: 


M '"' 


m 


%4 


'"'"lifi,! 


i'SI' 


'M'    'W 


■ii: 

'i; 

f* 

ill'           '        ' 

1  'iHll 

who,  like  other  caballeros,  occasionalh'  engaged  in  a  game 
or  two  for  pastime  —  he  staked  the  last  acre  of  her  estate, 
knowing  she  would  refuse  him  nothing,  and  lo3t.  For  a 
momeiit  ho  looked  blank,  —  a  most  unwonted  manifesta- 
tion of  dismay  i  so  practised  a  gambler,  —  then  laughed 
and  shook  hands  with  his  fortunate  opponent.  There  was 
a  laughing  group  around  him,  condoling  with  him  banter- 
ingly,  for  Pancho  Vall6  had  never  seemed  to  make  any 
misfortune  a  serious  matter,  when  a  pistol-shot  was  heard. 
For  a  moment  no  one  realized  what  had  happened  ;  the 
young  officer  stood  in  his  g  /  uniform,  smiling  still,  his 
gold-mounted  pistol  in  his  hand,  then  fell  heavilj'  forward. 
The  ball  had  passed  through  his  heart.  His  widow  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  b}-  the  smile  that  remained  on 
his  handsome  countenance  that  he  had  died  as  joyouslj^ 
as  he  had  lived ;  not  a  trace  of  care  showed  that  aught 
deeper  than  mere  pique  and  caprice  had  moved  him. 
"  Angel  of  my  life !  "  she  cried,  when  her  first  burst  of 
grief  was  over,  '  thou  wert  beginning  to  make  my  heart 
ache,  for  I  had  nothing  more  to  give  thee  !  " 

This  was  her  only  word  of  reproach,  if  reproach  it  might 
be  called.  For  love  that  woman  would  have  yielded  even 
her  life,  and  never  have  known  the  hoUowness  of  her  idol. 
Grief  did  the  work  that  ingratitude  and  neglect — nay 
absolute  cruelty  —  would  perhaps  never  have  effected,  and 
in  a  few  short  months  destroyed  her  life.  As  she  was 
dying  she  called  her  daughter  to  her.  "  Isabel,"  she  said, 
"  thou  hast  wealth,  thy  brother  has  nothing :  swear  to  me 
by  the  Virgin  and  thy  patron  saint,  that  thou  wilt  be  as  a 
mother  to  him,  that  thou  wilt  refuse  him  nothing  that  thy 
hand  can  give  !  Money,  money,  mone}',  is  what  makes 
men  happy !  "  That  had  been  the  creed  her  Ufe's  experi- 
ence had  taught  her.  For  money  her  father  had  sold  her ; 
for  that  the  husband  she  adored  had  given  her  fair  words 
and  caresses.  "  As  thou  wouldst  have  thy  mother's  bless- 
ing, promise  me  that  Leon  shall  never  appeal  to  thee  in 
vain ! " 

Isabel  Garcia  was  but  a  child,  and  the  boy  Leon  but 
three  years  younger ;  yet  as  she  looked  upon  her  dying 
mother  she  solemnly  promised  to  fill  her  place,  to  take 
upon  herself  the  role  of  sacrifice,  which  her  religion  taught 
her  was  that  of  motherhood.     Poor  Clarita!    little  had 


I  * 


girl 

evil, 

ward 

Lee 

ising 

showe 

of  soil 

the  01 

lount 


iiiili; 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


149 


J 

^ 


she  understood  a  mother's  highest  duties,  —  to  warn,  to 
guide,  to  plead  with  God  for  the  beloved.  The  mere 
yielding  of  material  things,  —  to  clothe  herself  in  sackcloth, 
that  the  child  might  be  robed  in  purple,  to  walk  barefoot 
that  he  might  ride  in  state,  to  hunger  that  he  might  be 
delicately  fed,  —  she  had  pictured  tiiese  things  to  herself 
as  the  purest  sacrifices,  and  surely  the  only  ones  to  appeal 
to  the  hea -*i  of  such  men  as  she  had  known ;  and  the 
young  Isab  \  entered  upon  her  task  with  her  mother's  pre- 
cepts deeply  engraved  upon  her  heart,  her  mind  all  unin- 
structed,  awaiting  the  iron  finger  of  experience  to  write 
upon  it  its  lessons. 

After  their  mother's  death,  the  3'oung  brother  and  sis- 
ter, mere  children  both,  went  to  live  in  the  house  of  some 
elderly  relatives,  who  with  generous  though  not  always 
judicious  kindness  strove  to  forget  the  faults  of  the  father 
by  ignoring  them  when  they  became  apparent  in  the  boy. 
The  uncle  of  Isabel,  the  Friar  Francisco,  became  their 
tutor,  but  taught  them  little  beyond  the  breviary.  What 
could  a  woman  need  with  more  ?  As  for  Leon,  he  took 
more  kindly  to  the  lasso  and  saddle,  to  the  pistol  and 
sword,  than  to  ths  book  or  pen,  —  and  even  while  still  a 
child  in  years,  more  passionately  still  to  the  gaming  table. 
Though  his  elders  with  a  shake  of  the  head  remembered 
his  father's  fate,  and  sometimes  i)U8hed  the  boy  half  laugh- 
ingly away  from  the  montc  table,  or  of  a  Sunday  afternoon 
sent  him  out  to  the  bull-ring  for  his  diversion,  where  he 
was  a  mere  spectator,  rather  than  to  the  cock-pit,  where  he 
became  a  participant,  yet  the  question  did  not  present 
ilself  as  One  at  all  of  questionable  morals :  every  one 
gambled  on  a  feast  day,  or  at  a  social  game  among  one's 
friends.  Perhaps  of  all  those  b}'  whom  he  was  surrounded, 
no  one  felt  any  serious  anxiety  for  Leon  except  the  young 
girl  who  with  premature  solicitude  warned  him  of  the 
evil,  even  as  she  supplied  the  means  to  indulge  his  way- 
ward tastes. 

Leon  was  a  brilliant  rather  than  a  handsome  boy,  prom- 
ising to  be  well  grown ;  and  his  lithe,  vigorous  figure 
showed  to  good  advantage  in  his  gay  riding-suits,  whether 
of  sombre  black  '^loth  with  silver  buttons  set  closcl}'^  down 
the  outer  seam  of  the  pantaloons  and  adorning  the  short 
round  jacket,  or  in  loose  chapareras  of  buckskin  bound  by 


t'l 


150 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


f 
I 


i 


I 

V  I. 


I  ill  I 


a  scarlet  sash  and  bedizened  with  leather  fringes,  —  a  cos- 
tume that  perhaps  served  to  betray  the  Indian  strain 
in  his  blood,  which  ordinarily  was  detected  only  by  a 
slight  prominence  of  the  cheek  bones  and  a  somewhat 
furtive  expression  in  the  soft  dark  eyes.  At  unguarded 
moments,  however,  perhaps  when  he  fancied  himself  un- 
observed and  was  practising  with  his  pistol  or  sabre,  those 
eyes  could  Hash  with  concentrated  fire,  so  that  more  than 
once  Isabel  had  been  constrained  to  call  out:  "Leon, 
Leon,  you  frighten  me  !  You  look  like  the  great  cat  when 
he  pounces  upon  a  harmless  little  bird  and  crushes  it  for 
the  very  joy  of  killing !  " 

Then  Leon  would  laugh,  and  the  soft,  dreamy  haze 
would  rise  again  over  the  eyes  as  he  would  turn  upon 
her.  "Ha!"  he  would  say,  "you  will  never  be  a  man, 
Isabel ;  you  will  never  understand  why  I  love  the  sights  and 
sounds  that  throw  you  po  jr  women  into  fainting  fits  and 
tears.  Ha !  Isabel,  if  I  were  you  I  'd  not  stay  in  this  dull 
house  with  a  couple  of  old  women  to  guard  me,  when  you 
might  go  to  the  hacienda  and  be  free  as  air." 

"  Nonsense,"  Isabel  would  retort ;  *'  what  could  I  do 
there  other  than  here?  I  could  not  turn  herdsman  or 
vaquero,  nor  even  ride  out  to  the  fields  to  see  how  the 
crops  were  flourishing,  nor  roam  like  an  Indian  through 
the  mountains." 

"  But  Z  would !  "  Leon  would  cry  enthusiastically ;  and 
witli  his  longing  ardor  for  the  free  life  of  a  country  gentle- 
man, with  its  barbaric  luxury  and  wild  sports,  he  thus 
first  put  into  the  3'oung  girl's  mind  the  thought  of  favor- 
ing the  suit  which  her  cousin,  Don  Gregorio  Garcia,  be- 
gan to  urge. 

Don  Gregorio  had  married  young,  soon  after  the  death 
of  Ignacio  Garcia  whom  he  succeeded  in  the  management 
of  the  estate  of  which  they  had  been  joint  owners  ;  but  his 
wife  had  died  leaving  him  without  an  heir,  and  the  first  grief 
assuaged,  it  was  but  natural  after  the  passage  of  years 
that  the  widower  should  weary  of  his  loneliness.  There 
w(!re  many  reasons  why  his  thoughts  Rhould  turn  to  his 
distant  cousin  Isabel,  for  though  she  was  many  3'ears 
younger  than  himself,  such  disparit}'  of  age  was  not 
uimsual ;  the  marriage  would  unite  still  more  closely  the 
family  fortunes,  and  effectually  prevent  the  intrusion  of 


CI/ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


151 


any  undesirable  stranger ;  and  above  all,  Isabel  was  gra- 
cious and  queenly  and  beautiful  enough  to  eliarm  the 
heart  even  of  an  anchorite,  and  Don  Gregorio  was  far 
from  being  one.  Indeed,  in  his  very  early  3'ears  he  had 
given  iudieations  of  a  partiality  for  a  far  more  adventur- 
ous career  than  he  had  finall}"^,  by  force  of  circumstances, 
been  led  to  adopt.  Thus  he  sympathized  somewhat  with 
Leon's  restless  activity,  and  quite  honestly  secured  the 
boy's  alliance,  —  no  slight  advantage  in  his  siege  of  the 
heart  of  Isabel. 

This,  perhaps  more  than  the  good-will  of  the  rest  of  the 
family,  enabled  Don  Gregorio  to  approach  so  nearly  to 
Isabel's  inmost  nature  that  he  learned  far  more  of  the 
strength  of  purpose  and  capability  for  passionate  devotion 
possessed  by  the  young  untrained  girl  than  any  other  being 
had  done,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  knew  a  love  far 
deeper  and  purer  than  any  passion  which  mere  physical 
charms  could  awaken.  Such  a  love  appealed  to  Isabel.  She 
was  perhaps  constitutionally  cold  to  sexual  charms,  but 
cuiinently  susceptible  to  the  sympathetic  attrition  of  an 
ai)i)reciative  mind,  while  her  heart  could  translate  far 
more  readily  the  rational  outpourings  of  friendship  than 
the  wild  rhapsodies  of  passion.  ']'hus,  although  Isabel 
would  have  shrunk  from  a  man  wlio  in  his  ardor  would 
li:ive  demanded  of  her  affection  some  sacrifice  of  the  un- 
(luulified  devotion  that  she  had  vowed  to  her  brother,  she 
seemed  to  find  in  Don  Gregorio  one  who  could  understand 
nnd  applaud  the  exctggerated  devotion  to  the  ideal  stan- 
ihird  of  filial  and  sisterly  duty  which  she  had  unconsciously 
eri'cted  upon  the  few  utterlj'  irrational  words  of  a  weak 
and  dying  woman. 

The  first  four  years  of  Isabel's  married  life  passed  un- 
ovuutfuU}'.  Leon  was  constantly  near  her,  and  was  the 
lite  of  the  great  house,  which  despite  the  crowd  of  re- 
tainers that  frequented  it  would  without  him  have  proved 
but  a  dull  dwelling  for  so  young  a  matron,  with  no  illu- 
sions in  regard  to  the  staid  and  kindly  husband,  who  was 
ratlier  a  friend  to  be  consulted  and  revered  than  a  lover 
to  be  adored, — for  although  Don  Gregorio  worshipped 
his  beautiful  young  wife,  he  was  at  once  too  mindful  of  his 
own  dignity,  and  too  war}^  of  startling  Isabel's  passionless 
nature!,  to  manifest  or  exact  romantic  and   exhaustive 


liu 


if' 


imn.'.t, 


/  r  ■  ij.-ii'  • 


i|'iil| 


152 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


proofs  of  affection.  He  used  sometimes  to  mutter  to  him- 
self: "'The  stronger  the  flame  the  sooner  the  wood  is 
burnt ; '  better  that  the  8ui)stance  of  love  should  endure 
than  be  dissipated  in  smoke  !  " 

Don  Gregorio  was  somewhat  of  a  philosopher ;  and  as 
such,  as  soon  as  the  glamour  thrown  over  him  by  Leon's 
brilliant  but  inconsequent  sallies  of  wit,  and  his  daring 
and  dashing  manner,  was  dimmed,  and  above  all  as  soon 
as  his  unreasoning  sympathy  with  Isabel's  predispositions 
settled  into  a  calm  and  sincere  desire  for  her  certain  hap- 
piness and  welfare,  he  began  to  look  with  some  suspicion 
upon  traits  which  had  at  first  attracted  him  as  the  natural 
outcome  of  an  ardent  and  generous  nature. 

Friar  Francisco  had  accompanied  the  young  brother 
and  sister  to  the  hacienda,  partly  to  minister  in  the  church, 
and  partly  as  tutor  to  Leon ;  but  in  the  latter  capacity  he 
found  little  exercise  for  his  talents.  Upon  one  pretext  or 
another  the  boy  at  first  evaded  and  later  absolutely  re- 
fused study;  but  he  joined  so  heartily  in  the  labors  as 
well  as  pleasures  of  hacienda  life, —  he  was  so  ready  in  re- 
source, sc  untiring  m  action,  so  companionable  alike  to 
all  classes,  that  Nature  seemed  to  have  fitted  him  abso- 
lutely for  the  position  that  he  was  apparently  destined  to 
fill  in  life.  Yet  though  he  was  the  prince  of  rancheros,  the 
life  of  the  city  sometimes  seemed  to  possess  an  irresistible 
attraction  for  him  ;  and  after  months  perhaps  spent  among 
the  employees  of  the  hacienda,  in  riding  with  the  vaqueros 
or  in  penetrating  the  recesses  of  the  mountain,  even  sleep- 
ing in  the  huts  of  charcoal  burners,  or  in  caves  with  rovers 
of  still  more  doubtful  reputation,  he  would  suddenly  weary 
of  it  all,  and  followed  by  a  servant  or  two  ride  gaj'ly 
down  to  the  city  to  see  how  the  world  went  there. 

At  first  Don  Gregorio  had  no  idea  how  much  those 
visits  cost  Isabel ;  but  as  time  went  on,  and  rumors 
reached  them  of  the  boy's  extravagant  mode  of  life,  Isa- 
bel became  anxious  and  Don  Gregorio  indignant.  Some 
investigation  showed  that  a  troop  of  young  roysterers 
who  called  him  captain  were  maintained  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  that  a  thousand  wild  freaks  which  had  m^'sti- 
fied  the  neighboiing  villages  and  haciendas  might  be 
ti'aced  to  these  mad  spirits,  among  whom  Don  Grego- 
rio shrewdly  conjectured   might  be   found  many  of  the 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA, 


153 


most  daring  5'oung  fellows,  both  of  the  higher  and 
lower  orders,  who  had  one  by  one  mysteriously  disap- 
peared during  the  few  months  preceding  Leon's  eighteenth 
birthday. 

Leon  only  laughed  when  taxed  with  his  guerilla  follow- 
ing, and  although  as  he  managed  it  it  was  a  somewhat 
costly  amusement,  it  was  not  an  unusual  or  an  altogether 
useless  one  in  those  days  of  anarchy ;  for  no  one  could 
say  how  soon  the  foitunes  of  war  might  turn  an  enemy 
upon  the  land  and  stores  of  Tres  Hermanos,  and  even 
Don  Gregorio  was  not  displeased  to  find  the  most  refrac- 
tory of  his  retainers  placed  in  a  position  to  defend  rather 
than  imperil  the  interests  of  the  estate.  As  tr  the  es- 
capades of  city  life  he  found  them  less  pardonable,  for 
they  consisted  chiefly  in  mad  devotion  to  the  gaming-table, 
which  Leon  was  never  content  to  leave  until  his  varying 
fortunes  turned  to  disaster  and  his  wild  excitement  was 
quelled  by  the  tardy  reflection  that  his  sister's  generosity 
would  be  taxed  in  thousands  to  pay  the  folly  of  a  night. 

Before  th  ^  age  of  twenty  Leon  Valle  had  run  the  gamut 
of  the  vices  and  extravagances  peculiar  to  Mexican  youths, 
and  large  as  the  resources  of  Dona  Isabel  were,  he  had 
bc^un  to  encroach  seriously  upon  them ;  for  true  to  her 
mother's  request,  she  had  never  refused  to  supply  his 
demands  for  money,  though  of  late  she  had  begun  to  make 
remonstrances,  which  were  received  half  incredulously,  half 
sullenly,  as  though  he  realized  neither  their  justice  nor  their 
necessity.  Isabel  was  now  a  mother,  her  daughter  Herlinda 
having  been  born  a  year  after  her  marriage,  and  their  son 
Norberto,  the  pride  and  hope  of  Don  Gregorio,  three  years 
later ;  and  naturally  the  young  mother  longed  to  consider 
the  interests  of  her  children,  which  so  far  as  her  own 
property  was  concerned  seemed  utterly  obliterated  and 
overwhelmed  by  the  mad  extravagances  of  her  brother. 

Strangely  enough,  Don  Gregorio  attempted  no  interfer- 
ence with  his  wife's  disposal  of  her  income,  though  it 
seemed  not  improbable  that  at  no  distant  day  even  the 
lands  would  be  in  jeopardj\  Perhaps  he  foresaw  that  as 
her  means  to  gratify  his  insatiable  demands  declined,  so 
gradually  Leon's  strange  fascination  over  his  sister  would 
cease ;  for  inevitably  his  restless  spirit  would  draw  him 
afar  to  find  fresh  fields  for  adventure,  since  in  those  days, 


It] 


El 


'fl 

r  m 


II 


154 


en  ATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


V'\      I 


f 


'V' 

\u  ■■ 
ll 

i., 

ii'. 

1 . 

■  ll' 

J*'' 

'  ;  'i   ': 

'     i! 

i   i 

ii 

1 

M^ 

1;    ;i 

■  ■       ^ 

,      ',."'. .,j„iMM 

1 

ii 

1 

! 

1 

ji  1 

!      . 

'It 

■'! 


whon  the  groat  struggle  between  Cliurch  and  State  was 
beginning  anil  Ibieign  eouiplications  were  tbrming,  sueh  a 
leader  as  he  nuglit  prove  to  be  would  find  no  laek  of 
oceasion  for  daring  deeds  and  reckless  followers,  nor 
scarcity  of  plunder  with  which  to  repay  the  latter. 

Whatever  were  his  thoughts,  Don  Gregorio  guarded 
thcin  well,  saying  sometimes  either  to  Leon  himself,  or  to 
8onie  friend  who  expressed  a  half  horrified  conjecture  as 
to  where  such  absolute  madness  must  end,  ''  See  you  not, 
*t  is  foolish  to  S(iueeze  the  orange  until  one  tastes  the  bit- 
terness of  the  rind?"  He  expected  some  sudden  and  vio- 
lent reaction  in  Isabel's  mind  and  conduct.  But  though 
she  began  to  show  she  realized  and  suffered,  she  bore  the 
strain  put  upon  her  with  royal  fortitude.  Youth  can  hope 
through  such  adverse  circumstances,  and  it  always  seemed 
to  her  that  one  who  "meant  so  well"  as  Leon,  must 
eventually  turn  from  temptation  and  begin  a  new  and 
nobler  career. 

At  last  what  appeared  to  Isabel  the  turning  point  in 
her  brother's  destiny  was  reached.  He  became  violently 
enamored  of  the  beautiful  daughter  of  a  Spaniard,  one 
Senor  Fernandez,  who  of  a  family  too  distinguished  to  be 
flattered  by  an  alliance  with  a  mere  attache  of  a  wealthy 
and  powerful  house,  was  so  poor  as  to  be  willing  to  con- 
sider it  should  a  suitable  provision  be  made  to  insure  his 
daughter's  future  prosperity.  The  beautiful  Dolores  was 
herself  favorably  inclined  toward  the  gay  cavalier,  who 
most  ardently  pressed  his  suit,  —  the  more  ardently  per- 
haps that  he  was  piqued  and  indignant  that  the  wary 
father  utterly  refused  to  consider  the  matter  until  Don 
Gregorio  or  Dona  Isabel  herself  should  formally  ask  the 
hand  of  his  daughter,  presenting  at  the  same  time  unmis- 
takable assurances  of  Leon's  ability  to  fulfil  the  promises 
he  recklessly  poured  forth. 

That  Leon  had  turned  from  his  old  evil  courses  scemetl 
as  months  passed  on  an  absolute  certainty.  Not  even  tho 
administrador  himself  could  be  more  utterly  bound  to  tlio 
wheel  of  routine  than  he.  To  sec  his  changed  life,  his  ab- 
solute repugnance  even  to  the  sports  suitable  to  his  age, 
w  as  almost  piteous  ;  his  whole  heart  and  mind  seemed  set 
upon  atonement  for  the  folly  of  the  past,  and  in  preparation  ^ 
for  a  life  of  toil  and  anxiety  in  the  future.     For  in  exam- 


ill  lug 

was 

with  I 

works 

by  stri 

tliut    f 

Leon 

make  ( 

Don 

self  wh 

but  pn 

giiey,  f 


I'lan-iagJ 
'"11(1  thai] 
«'ie  kne( 


ClIATA   AND  ClIINirA. 


155 


iniiig  into  her  alluirs,  Dona  Isabel  foiiiul  that  her  iiicomo 
was  largely  overdrawn ;  Lcoh'h  extravagances,  together 
with  heavy  losses  incurred  in  the  working  of  the  reduction- 
works,  had  so  far  crippled  her  resources  that  it  was  only 
l)v  stringent  etfort,  and  an  appeal  to  Don  Gregorio  for  aid, 
tluvt  she  was  enabled  so  to  rehabilitate  the  fortunes  of 
].i'on  that  he  could  hope  to  win  the  prize  which  was  to 
make  or  mar  his  future. 

Dona  Isabel  was  as  happy  as  the  impatient  lover  him- 
self when  she  could  place  in  his  hands  the  deeds  of  a  small 
but  productive  estate,  famous  for  the  growth  of  tho  ma- 
guey, from  which  the  sale  of  pulque  and  mescal  promised  a 
never  failing  revenue.  The  money  had  been  raised  largely 
through  concessions  made  by  Don  Gregorio,  and  was  to 
be  repaid  from  the  income  of  Isabel's  encumbered  estate, 
so  that  for  some  years  at  least  it  would  be  out  of  her 
power  to  render  Leon  any  further  assistance.  Don  Gre- 
gorio shook  his  head  gravel}-  over  the  whole  matter ;  yet 
the  fact  that  the  young  man  was  virtually  thrown  upon  the 
resources  provided  for  him,  which  certainly  without  the 
concentration  of  all  his  energies  and  tact  would  be  alto- 
gether insufficient  for  his  maintenance,  and  also  that  ho 
h:ul  great  faith  in  the  energy  of  character  which  for  the 
liist  time  appeared  diverted  into  a  legitimate  channel,  in- 
clined him  to  believe  that  at  last,  urged  by  necessity  as 
Avell  as  love,  Leon  would  redeem  his  past  and  settle  clown 
into  the  reputable  citizen  and  relative  who  was  to  justify 
and  repay  the  sister's  tireless  and  extraorumary  devotion. 
"Or  at  least,"  he  said  to  himself,  "Isabel  will  be  satisfied 
that  no  more  can  or  should  be  done  ;  and  it  is  worth  a  for- 
tune to  convince  her  of  that." 

Strangely  enough,  though  Isabel  had  addressed  herself 
with  a  frenzy  of  determination  to  the  task  of  securing  a 
competency  for  Leon  that  might  enable  him  to  marry  and 
enter  upon  a  life  which  was  to  relieve  her  of  the  constant 
drain  upon  her  resources,  both  material  and  mental,  which 
for  years  had  been  sapping  her  prosperity  and  peace,  3'et 
as  slie  beheld  him  ride  awav  toward  the  town  in  which 
his  inamorata  dwelt  to  make  the  final  arrangements  for  his 


'f?*- 


marriage,  her  heart  sank  within  her ;  and  instead  of  relief 
iind  thankfulness,  she  felt  a  frightful  pang  of  apprehension, 
sho  knew  not  wh}',  as  if  a  prophetic  voice  warned  her  that 


'  Hi 

,1   .! 


i: 


!ln 


mm 


01 

^1 


:  "  .tj 


150 


CIIATA   AND   CniNlTA. 


v  • 


X 


i 


l;!*""i,„, 


Pi 

h 

'ii 

!i' 

t 

»'■"  11^'  ■" 

'k 

1  '  '' 

'i 

hur  own  hand  had  oj)«:i>cd  the  door  to  n  ohuinber  of  horrors, 
through  which  tho  b'uiliiij;  youth  would  i)ns8  uiid  drug  licr 
as  lu!  went. 

Isabel  threw  herself  upon  her  husband's  breast  in  an 
agony  which  he  could  not  comprehend,  but  whicii  he 
gently  soothctl,  happy  to  feel  that  to  him  she  turned  in  the 
Ih-Ht  moment  of  her  abandonment, — for  indeed  she  felt  that 
HJic  who  had  given  her  substance,  her  Hymi)athy,  her  faith, 
all  of  which  a  sister's  life  is  capable,  was  indeed  abandoned, 
and  all  for  a  fresh  young  face,  a  word,  a  smile.  Leon 
was  a  changed  man,  but  all  her  devotion  had  not  worked 
the  miracle  ;  another  whose  love  could  be  as  yet  but  a  fancy 
had  accomplished  what  years  of  sacrifice  from  her  had 
striven  for  in  vain ! 

There  was  something  of  jealousy,  but  far  more  of  the 
pain  of  ballled  aspiration  in  the  thought,  and  through  it  all 
that  dreadful  doubt,  that  sickening  dread  as  to  whethof 
she  had  done  well  thus  to  strip  herself  of  the  power  to 
minister  to  him.  It  seemed,  even  against  her  reason,  im- 
possible that  Leon  could  be  beyond  the  pale  of  her  bounty ; 
she  had  been  so  accustomed  to  plan,  to  think,  to  plot  for 
him,  that  she  could  not  grasp  the  thought  that  henceforth  he 
was  to  live  without  her,  that  she  was  to  know  him  happy, 
joyous,  at  ease,  and  she  no  longer  be  the  immediate  and 
ministering  Providence  which  made  him  so. 

After  the  infant  Carmen  was  born,  the  mother's  thoughts 
turned  into  other  channels.  As  she  looked  at  this  child, 
the  thought  for  the  first  time  came  to  her,  that  some  day 
it  might  be  possible  that  her  children  would  inherit  some 
material  good  from  her.  Their  father  was  a  rich  man,  yet 
there  was  a  pleasure  in  the  thought  that  her  children,  licr 
daughters  most  especially,  would  be  pleased  b}'  a  mother's 
rich  gifts,  would  perhaps  from  her  receive  the  dower  that 
would  make  them  welcome  in  the  homes  of  the  men  they 
might  love.  Isabel  began  to  indulge  in  the  maternal 
hopes  and  visions  of  j'oung  motherhood,  and  to  foci  the 
security  that  a  still  hopeful  mind  may  acquire,  after  years 
of  secret  and  harassing  cares  have  passed. 

The  usual  visits  of  ceremony  had  passed  between  the 
contracting  families ;  the  Scfior  Fernandez  had  declared 
himself  satisfied  with  the  generous  provisions  which  had 
been  made  for  the  j'oung  couple ;  the  house  was  set  in 


C II ATA   AND  C/f/N/TA. 


157 


order,  nnd  nn  early  dii}'  niuiicd  for  the  wedding.  Sumo 
davH  of  purest  luii)[)ines.s  followed  tlio  tearful  uuxlety  with 
wliicli  Dolores  liud  uwuited  the  negotiations  that  were  to 
shape  her  destiny.  An  earnest  of  the  future  came  to  lier 
in  the  present  of  jewels,  with  which  Leon  presaged  the 
marriage  gifts  which  he  went  to  the  city  of  Mexico  to 
choose, — for  whether  rich  or  poor,  no  Mexican  bridegroom 
would  fail  of  a  necklet  of  pearls,  or  a  brooch  and  earrings 
of  brilliants  for  his  bride  ;  and  with  his  luxurious  tastes, 
it  was  not  to  bo  supposed  that  Leon  Valle  could  fail  to  add 
to  these  laces  and  silks  and  velvets,  fit  rather  for  a 
princess  than  for  the  future  wife  of  a  country  3'outh  whoso 
only  capital  was  in  house  and  land.  Isabel  had  just  heard 
of  these  things,  and  had  begun  to  excuse  in  her  hear*^^ 
these  extravagances,  which  seemed  so  natural  to  a  youth 
in  love,  when  a  remembrance  flashed  upon  her  mind  which 
justified  the  apprehensions  she  had  felt,  and  which  it 
seemed  incredible  should  have  escaped  not  only  her  own 
but  also  Don  Grcgorio's  vigilance,  —  Leon  had  gone  to 
Mexico  In  the  days  of  the  feast  of  San  Augustin. 

Isabel  was  too  jealous  of  her  brother's  good  name,  too 
eager  to  shield  him  from  a  breath  of  distrust,  to  mention 
the  fears  that  assailed  her.  vShe  called  herself  irrational, 
faithless,  unjust,  yet  she  could  not  rid  herself  of  the  dread 
which  seemed  to  brood  above  her  like  a  cloud.  And  so 
passed  the  month  of  June,  and  July  brought  Leon  Vallo 
back  again,  and  one  glance  at  his  haggard  face  and 
bloodshot  eyes  revealed  to  Isabel  tliat  Iicr  fears  wero 
realized.  He  told  the  talc  in  a  few  words  and  with  a  hol- 
low laugh. 

"  You  will  have  to  go  to  Garcia  for  me  now,  Isabel,"  ho 
said.  "  Your  last  venture  has  brought  me  the  old  luck, 
cursed  bad  luck.  A  plague  upon  your  money  I  I  thought 
to  double  or  treble  it,  and  the  last  cent  is  gone ! " 

"And  the  hacienda  of  San  Lazaro?"  queried  Isabel, 
faintly. 

"  Would  you  believe  it?  Gone  too  !  Aranda  has  had 
the  devil's  own  luck.  'T  was  the  last  of  the  feast,  Isabel. 
Thousands  were  changing  hands  at  every  table.  It  seemed 
a  cowardice  not  to  tr}^  a  stake  for  a  fortune  that  might  bo 
had  for  the  asking.  I  was  a  fool,  and  hesitated  till  it  was 
too  late.    Had  I  only   ventured   at   once  I     What  think 


ili-.i^ 


m 


|i 

mm 


m 


lii  11^ 


•[  m 


%:-'■■    'U 


'3',  "i 


m 


158 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


you  happened  to  Leoncio  Alvarez  ?  He  played  his  hacienda 
against  Esparto's,  and  lost.  He  had  dared  nie  not  five 
minutes  before  to  the  venture.  The  devil,  what  a  chance 
I  missed  !  His  hacienda  was  three  times  the  size  of  San 
Lazaro  !  He  bore  its  loss  like  a  man.  '  "V^'hat  can  one  do, 
friend  ? '  he  cried  to  Esparto  ;  '  it  has  been  thy  luck  to-day, 
't  will  be  mine  when  we  next  meet.'  Just  then  his  brother 
Antonio  came  up.  'What  luck,  Leoncio?'  he  said. 
*  Cursed  ! '  he  answered.  '  I  have  played  my  hacienda 
against  Esparto's  here,  and  lost  it.'  Antonio  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  turned  away.  'Play  mine  and  go.t 
it  back,'  he  suggested,  and  walked  off  to  tlie  next  table. 
The  cards  were  dealt,  and  in  three  minutes  Leoucio's 
hacienda  was  his  own  again,  thrown  like  a  ball  from  one 
hand  to  the  other.    It  was  glorious  play !  " 

"  But  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  thee,"  ventured 
Isabel. 

"  No,"  muttered  Leon,  moodily ;  "  when  ^ventured  my 
hacienda  and  lost,  there  was  no  Antonio  to  bid  me  play 
his  and  get  it  back." 

He  looked  at  Isabel  with  an  air  of  reproach.  She  had 
neither  look  nor  word  of  reproach  for  him,  yet  she  felt 
that  a  mortal  blow  had  been  dealt  her.  And  Leon  ?  He 
had  laughed,  though  she  knew  that  the  laugh  was  that  of 
the  mocking  fiend  Despair  which  possessed  him ;  and  he 
had  bade  her  go  on  his  behalf  to  Garcia.  She  left  him  in 
desperation.  She  knew  how  utterly  fruitless  such  an 
appeal  would  be. 


It  was  fruitless. 


Don  Gregorio  asked  with  some  scorn 


in  his  voice  whether  Leon  thought  him  as  weak  as  she  had 
been,  or  as  much  of  a  madman  as  himself  when  he  hail 
dared  the  chances  of  the  tables  at  San  Augustin.  For  him, 
Garcia,  to  furnish  money  to  the  oft- tried  scapegrace  would 
be  a  folly  that  would  merit  the  inevitable  loss  it  would  bring. 
Ali  of  which,  though  true  enough,  Don  Gregorio  repeated 
with  unnecessary  vehemence  to  Leon  himself,  with  the 
tone  of  irrepressible  satisfaction  with  which  he  at  last 
saw  humiliated  the  man  who  had  for  so  long  held  such  a 
resistless  fascination  over  his  wife. 

With  wonderful  self-restraint  Leon  replied  not  a  word 
to  the  cutting  irony  with  which  his  brother-in-law  referred 
to  the  mad  ambition  and  foll^'  which  had  led  to  his  losses, 


CHATA   AND   CHI  NIT  A. 


159 


and  with  which  Gregorio  excused  himself  from  further 
assistiug  in  the  ruin  of  the  Garcia  family,  —  reminding 
the  gamester  that  though  he  had  thrown  away  the  key  to 
fortune  which  he  had  taken  from  his  sister's  hand,  he  had 
still  youth,  a  sword,  and  a  subtle  mind,  any  one  of  which 
should  be  able  Xo  provide  him  a  living. 

"  That  is  true,"  replied  Leon,  with  a  dangerous  light  in 
his  half-closed  eyes.  "Thanks  for  the  reminder,  my 
brother.  What  is  the  old  saying?  'A  hungry  man  dis- 
covers more  than  a  thousand  wise   men.'" 

They  both  laughed.  It  was  not  likely  that  Leon's  pov- 
erty would  ever  reach  the  point  of  actual  want.  There 
at  the  hacienda  was  his  home  when  he  cared  for  it ;  but 
as  for  money, — why  as  Don  Gregorio  had  said,  the  key 
to  fortune  was  thrown  away,  and  it  seemed  unlikely  the 
unfortunate  loser  would  ever  recover  it. 

Almost  on  the  same  day  on  which  Leon  Vall6  had  told 
his  sister  of  his  fatal  hardihood  at  the  feast  of  San 
Augustin,  there  arrived,  with  assurances  of  the  profound 
respect  of  Seiior  Fernandez  and  his  daughter,  the  jewels 
and  other  rich  gifts  wliich  Dolores  had  accepted  as  the 
betrothed  of  Leon.  With  deep  Indignation  that  his 
explanations  and  protestations  had  been  rejected,  but 
with  a  pride  which  prevented  the  frantic  remonstrances 
which  rushed  to  his  lips  from  passing  beyond  them,  Leon 
received  these  proofs  of  his  dismissal,  which  in  a  few  days 
was  rendered  final  by  the  news  that  the  beautiful  Dolores 
had  married  a  wealthier  and  perhaps  even  more  ardent 
suitor,  whom  the  insolence  and  mockery  of  Fate  had  pro- 
vided in  the  person  of  the  lucky  winner  of  San  Lazaro. 
Even  Don  Gregorio  felt  his  heart  burn  with  the  natural 
chagrin  of  family  pride,  and  Isabel  would  have  turned 
with  some  sympathy  toward  the  brother  of  whom,  uncon- 
sciously to  herself,  she  could  no  longer  make  a  hero.  ' 
Strangely  enough,  his  aspect  as  a  suppliant  for  her  hus- 
band's bounty  had  disrobed  him  of  the  glamour  through 
which  she  had  always  beheld  him.  When  she  herself  was 
powerless  to  minister  to  him,  he  was  no  longer  a  prince 
claiming  tribute,  but  the  undignified  dependent  whom  she 
blushed  to  see  lounging  in  sullen  idleness  in  her  husband's 
house.  Yet  as  lias  Ijeen  said,  when  word  of  the  marriage 
of  Dolores  Fernandez   reached  them,    they  would   have 


,   ■M,^1f;>. 


'  W'' 


'% 


160 


CHATA   AND  CHI  NIT  A. 


m 


t 


w 


m 


given  him  sympathy ;  but  lie  had  received  the  news  first, 
and  collecting  a  half-dozen  followers  had  mounted  and 
ridden  madly  away. 

The  horses  they  rode  were  Don  Gregorio's  yet  Leon  had 
gone  without  a  word  of  excuse  or  farewell.  Isabel  had 
no  opportunity  to  tell  him  that  she  had  no  more  money  to 
give  him ;  and  in  her  distress  at  supposing  him  penniless 
it  was  an  immense  relief  to  her  to  find  that  he  had  retained 
in  his  possession  the  jewels  that  the  father  of  Dolores 
had  returned  to  him.  He  would  at  least  not  be  without 
resource.  But  soon  a  strange  tale  reached  her.  The 
jewels  torn  from  their  settings,  the  stones  in  fragments, 
the  whole  crushed  into  an  utterly  worthless  mass,  so  far  as 
human  strength  and  ingenuity  could  accomplish  it,  had 
been  found  upon  the  pillow  of  the  bride.  The  husband 
was  jealously  frantic  that  her  sanctuary  had  been  invaded  ; 
the  bride  was  hysterically  alarmed,  yet  flattered  at  this 
J  roof  of  her  lover's  passion;  and  the  entire  community 
were  for  days  on  the  qui  vive  for  further  developments  in 
this  drama  of  love. 

But  none  came,  and  soon  Leon  Valla's  name  was  heard 
of  as  one  of  the  guerillas  of  the  Texan  war,  where  he 
fought  for  —  it  was  not  to  be  said  under  —  Santa  Anna ; 
and  ere  many  months  his  name  rang  from  one  end  of  the 
republic  to  the  other,  —  the  synonym  of  gallant  daring, 
which  in  a  less  exciting  time  might  have  been  called 
ferocious  bloodthirstiness. 

Isabel  quailed  as  she  heard  the  wild  tales  told  of  him  ; 
but  Don  Gregorio  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said, 
"  Thank  Heaven  he  turned  soldier  rather  than  brigand ! " 
The  chief  difference  between  the  two  in  those  days  was  in 
name;  but  that  meant  much  in  sentiment. 


; 

XXT. 


Leon  Vaix^  had  not  parted  from  his  sister  in  declared 
hostility,  yet  months  passed  before  she  heard  directly 
from  him.  But  this  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  as  letters 
were  necessarily  sent  by  private  carriers,  and  it  was  not 
to  be  expected  that  in  the  adventurous  excitement  of  his 
life  he  should  pause  to  send  a  mere  salutation  over  leagues 
of  desolate  country. 

Meanwhile  the  prevailing  anarchy  of  the  time  crept 
closer  and  closer  to  the  hacienda  limits.  Bandits  gathered 
in  the  mountains  and  ravaged  the  outlying  villages,  driving 
off  flocks  of  sheep  or  herds  of  cattle,  lassoing  the  finest 
horses,  and  mocking  the  futile  efforts  of  the  country  people 
to  guard  their  property.  The  name  of  one  Juan  Planillos 
became  a  terror  in  every  household ;  yet  one  by  one  the 
younger  men  stole  away  to  strengthen  the  number  of  his 
followers  and  share  the  wild  excitement  of  the  bandit  life, 
rather  than  to  wait  patiently  at  home  to  be  drafted  into  the 
ranks  of  some  political  chieftain  whose  career  raiseu  little 
enthusiasm,  and  whose  political  creed  was  as  obscure  as 
his  origin.  "  The  memory  is  confused,"  says  an  historian, 
"by  the  plans  and  pronunciamientos  of  that  time.  Men 
changed  ideas  at  each  step,  and  defended  to-day  what 
they  had  attacked  yesterday.  Parties  triumphed  and  fell 
at  every  turn."  The  form  of  government  was  as  change- 
able as  a  kaleidoscope,  and  only  the  brigand  and  guerilla 
seemed  immutable.  Whatever  the  politics  of  the  day, 
their  motto  was  plunder  and  rapine  ;  and  their  deeds,  so 
brilliant,  so  unforeseeable,  offered  an  irresistible  attraction 
to  the  restless  spirits  of  that  revolutionary  epoch. 

Though  Dofia  Isabel  Garcia,  like  all  others,  was  imbued 
with  the  military  ardor  of  the  time,  the  brilliant  reputation 
that  her  brother  was  winning  in  distant  fields,  though  in 
harmony  with  her  own  political  opinions,  horrified  rather 
than  dazzled  her.     She  shuddered  as  she  heard  his  name 

11 


pj 


162 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


i:    -■      (!l 


mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with  that  of  the  remorseless 
Valdez,  or  the  crafty  and  bloody  Planillos ;  3'et  she  was 
glad  to  believe  his  incentive  was  patriotism  rather  than 
p}  under,  and  when  at  last  a  messenger  from  him  reached 
her  with  the  same  old  cry  for  "  Money  !  money !  money  !  " 
she  responded  ,.ith  a  heaping  handful  of  gold,  —  all  she 
had  been  able  to  accumulate  in  the  few  months  of  his  ab- 
sence. Don  Gregorio  however,  vexed  by  recent  losses 
and  harassed  by  constant  raids  from  the  mountain  brig- 
ands, sent  a  refusal  that  was  worded  almost  like  a  curse ; 
and  ashamed  of  her  brother,  annoyed  by  n,nd  yet  sympathiz- 
ing with  her  husband.  Dona  Isabel  felt  her  heart  sink  like 
lead  in  her  bosom,  and  for  the  first  time  her  superb  health 
showed  signs  of  yielding  to  the  severe  mental  strain  to 
which  she  had  been  so  long  subjected. 

June  had  come  again ;  the  rainy  season  would  soon  be- 
gin, and  Don  Gregorio,  suddenly  thinking  that  the  change 
would  benefit  his  wife,  suggested  that  they  should  pass 
some  months  in  the  city.  The  roads  were  threatened  by 
highwaymen,  yet  Isabel  was  glad  to  go,  and  even  to  incur 
the  novelty  of  danger.  Her  travelling  carriage  was  luxu- 
rious, and  with  her  little  girls  immediately  under  her  own 
eye,  with  an  occasional  glimpse  of  the  four-year-old  Nor- 
berto  riding  proudly  at  his  father's  side  in  the  midst  of  the 
numerous  escort  of  picked  men,  she  felt  an  exhilaration  both 
of  body  and  mind  to  which  she  had  long  been  a  stranger. 

The  travelling  was  necessarily  slow,  for  the  roads  were 
excessively  rough,  and  the  paroy  had  at  sunset  of  the  first 
day  scarcely  left  the  limits  of  the  hacienda  and  entered 
the  defile  which  led  to  the  deeper  canons  of  the  mountains, 
wh'jrein  upon  the  morrow  they  anticipated  the  necessity  of 
exercising  a  double  vigilance.  Not  a  creature  had  been 
seen  for  hours ;  the  mountains  with  their  straggling  clumps 
of  cacti  and  blackened,  stunted  palms  seemed  absolutely 
bereft  of  animal  life,  except  when  occasionally  a  lizard 
glided  swiftly  over  a  rock,  or  a  snake  rustled  through  the 
dry  and  crackling  lierbage.  Caution  seemtd  absurd  in 
such  a  place  where  there  was  scarce  a  cleft  for  conceal- 
ment, yet  the  party  drew  nearer  together,  and  the  men 
looked  to  their  arms  as  the  cliflTs  became  closer  on  either 
side  and  so  precipitous  that  it  seemed  as  though  a  goat 
could  scarcely  have  scaled  them. 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


163 


They  had  passed  nearly  the  entire  length  of  this  caflon, 
and  the  nervous  tension  that  had  held  the  whole  party 
silent  and  upon  the  alert  was  gradually  yielding  to  the 
glimpse  of  more  open  country  which  lay  bej'ond,  and  on 
which  they  had  planned  to  camp  for  the  night,  when  sud- 
denly the  whole  country  seemed  alive  with  men.  They 
blocked  the  way,  backward  and  forward ;  they  hung  from 
the  cliffs ;  they  bounded  from  rock  to  rock,  on  foot  and  on 
horse,  the  horses  as  agile  as  the  men.  Amid  the  tumult 
one  man  seemed  ubiquitous.  All  eyes  followed  him,  yet 
not  one  cai.;„ht  sight  of  his  face ;  the  striped  jorongo 
thrown  over  shoulders  and  face  formed  an  impenetrable 
disguise,  such  as  the  noted  guerilla  chief  of  the  mountains 
was  wont  to  wear.  Suddenly  there  was  a  cry  of  "  Planil- 
los !  Planillos !  "  amid  the  confusion  of  angry  voices,  of 
curses,  and  the  clanking  of  sabres  and  echo  of  pistol-shots. 
T3on  Gregorio  found  himself  driven  against  the  rocks,  a 
Bword-point  at  his  throat,  a  pistol  pressed  to  his  temple, 
his  own  smoking  weapon  in  his  hand. 

Immediately  the  shouts  ceased,  and  before  the  smoke 
which  had  filled  the  gorge  had  cleared,  the  travellers  found 
themselves  alone,  with  two  or  three  dead  men  obstructing 
the  road.  Don  Gregorio  had  barely  time  to  notice  them, 
or  the  blank  faces  of  his  men  staring  bewildered  at  one 
another,  when  a  cry  from  Dona  Isabel  recalled  him  to  his 
senses,  and  he  saw  her  rushing  wildly  from  group  to  group. 
In  an  instant  he  was  at  her  side.  "  Norberto!  where  is 
Norberto?"  bt  th  demanded  wildly,  and  some  of  the  men 
who  had  caught  the  name  began  to  force  their  horses 
up  the  almost  inaccessible  cliffs,  and  to  gallop  up  or 
down  the  cafion  in  a  confused  pursuit  of  the  vanished 
enemy. 

Don  Gregorio  alone  retained  his  presence  of  mind ; 
though  night  was  closing  in  and  the  horses  were  wearied 
by  a  day's  travel,  not  a  moment  was  lost  in  dispatching 
couriers  to  the  city  for  armed  police  and  to  the  hacienda  for 
fresh  men  and  horses,  and  the  return  to  Tres  Hermanos 
was  immediately  begun.  Sometime  during  the  morning 
hours  they  were  met  by  a  party  from  the  hacienda,  and  put- 
ting himself  at  the  head  of  his  retainers  Don  Gregorio  led 
them  in  search  of  his  son,  while  Dona  Isabel  in  a  state  bor- 
dering upon  distraction  proceeded  to  her  desolated  home. 


fii 


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CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


ITcr  first  act  was  to  send  a  courier  to  her  brother.  No 
one  knew  the  mountains  as  he  did,  and  in  her  terrible 
plight  she  was  certain  he  would  not  fail  her.  But  her 
haste  was  needless,  for  information  reached  him  from  some 
other  source,  and  within  a  few  days  he  was  at  the  head  of 
a  party  of  valiant  Garcias,  who  had  hastened  from  far 
and  near  to  the  rescue  of  their  young  kinsman. 

In  all  the  country  round  the  abduction  jf  Norberto 
Garcia  was  called  "the  abduction  by  enchanters,"  —  so 
sudden  had  been  the  attack,  so  complete  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  victim.  Beyond  the  immediate  scene  no  trace 
remained  of  the  act,  —  it  seemed  that  the  very  earth  must 
have  opened  to  swallow  the  perpetrators ;  and  yet  day  by 
day  proofs  of  their  existence  were  found  in  letters  left 
upon  the  very  saddle  crossed  by  the  father,  or  upon  the 
pillow  wet  with  the  tears  of  the  mother,  demanding  ransom 
which  each  day  became  more  exorbitant,  accompanied  by 
threats  more  and  more  ingenious  and  horrible. 

Such  seizures,  though  rare,  were  by  no  means  unpre- 
cedented, and  such  threats  had  been  proved  to  be  only  too 
likel}'  to  be  fulfilled.  As  daj'S  went  by  the  agony  of  the  pa- 
rents became  unbearable,  and  Don  Gregorio's  early  reso- 
lution to  spend  a  fortune  in  the  pursuit  and  punishment 
of  the  robbers  rather  than  comply  with  their  demands, 
and  thus  lend  encouragement  to  similar  outrages,  began 
to  yield  before  the  imminent  danger  to  the  life  of  his  son ; 
and  to  Doiia  Isabel  it  seemed  a  cruel  mockery  that  her 
brother  and  the  young  Garcias  should  urge  him  to  further 
exertion  and  postponement  of  the  inevitable  moment  when 
he  must  accede  to  the  imperious  demands  of  the  outlaws. 
The  family  were  one  evening  discussing  again  the 
momentous  and  constantly  agitated  question,  when  Dona 
Fcliz  appeared  among  them  with  starting  eyes  and  pallid 
chocks,  bidding  Don  Gregorio  go  to  his  wife,  from  whose 
nerveless  hand  she  had  wrested  a  paper,  which  Leon 
seized  and  opened  as  the  excited  woman  held  it  toward 
him.  Don  Gregorio  turned  back  at  his  brother-in-law's 
exclamation,  and  beheld  upon  his  outstretched  hand  a 
lock  of  soft  brown  hair,  evidently  that  of  a  child.  It 
had  been  severed  from  the  head  by  a  bloody  knife.  It 
was  a  mute  threat,  yet  they  understood  it  but  too  well. 
Every  man  there  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  groan  or  an 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


1G5 


oath.  Such  a  threat  they  remembered  had  been  sent  to 
the  parents  the  very  day  before  tlie  infant  Ranulfo  Ortega 
liad  been  found  dead  not  a  hundred  yards  from  his  fa- 
ther's door.  Did  this  mean  also  that  the  last  demand 
for  ransom  had  been  made,  and  the  patience  of  Norberto's 
abductors  was  exhausted? 

Don  Gregorio  clasped  his  hands  over  his  eyes,  and 
reeled  against  the  wall.  Leon  sprang  to  his  feet,  pale  to 
his  lips,  his  eyes  blazing.  Julian  Garcia  picked  up  the 
hair  which  had  fallen  from  Leon's  hand ;  the  others 
stood  grouped  in  horrified  expectancy.  Dona  Feliz  stood 
for  a  moment  looking  at  them  with  lofty  courage  and 
determination  upon  her  face. 

"  What,"  she  cried,  "  is  this  a  time  for  hesitation?  The 
money  must  be  paid,  the  child's  life  saved.  Vengeance 
can  wait !  "  She  spoke  with  a  tire  that  thrilled  them,  and 
though  they  spoke  but  of  the  ransom,  it  was  the  word 
"vengeance"  that  rang  in  their  ears,  and  steeled  Don 
Gregorio  to  the  terrible  task  that  awaited  him. 

That  night  the  quaint  hiding-places  of  the  vast  hacienda 
were  ransacked,  and  many  a  hoard  of  coin  was  extracted 
from  the  deep  corners  of  the  walls,  and  the  depths  of  half- 
ruinous  wells.  Dona  Isabel  saw  treasures  of  whose  exist- 
ence she  had  never  heard  before,  but  had  perhaps  vaguely 
suspected ;  for  through  the  long  j^ears  of  anarchy  the 
Garcias  had  become  expert  in  secreting  such  surplus 
wealth  as  they  desired  to  keep  within  reach.  Large  as 
was  the  sum  brought  to  light,  it  barely  sufficed  to  meet 
the  demands  of  the  robbers ;  yet  it  was  a  question  how 
such  a  weight  of  coin  was  to  be  conveyed  by  one  person 
to  the  spot  indicated  for  the  payment  of  the  ransom 
and  delivery  of  the  child,  —  for  it  had  been  urgently 
insisted  upon  that  but  one  man  should  go  into  the  very 
stronghold  of  the  bandits. 

At  daybreak,  having  refused  the  offer  of  Leon  Valle  to 
go  in  his  stead,  Don  Gregorio  mounted  his  horse  and  set 
out  on  his  mission.  He  knew  well  the  place  appointed, 
for  he  had  been  in  his  youth  an  adventurous  mountaineer, 
and  more  than  once  had  penetrated  the  deep  gorge  into 
which,  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  descended,  bearing  with 
him  the  gold  and  silver.  As  he  entered  the  "  Zahuan  del 
Infierno  "  he  shuddered.   Not  ten  days  before  he  had  passed 


'  ■v\ 


h  JS'  I 

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CIIATA   AND  CHINITA. 


throu.'^h  it,  followed  by  a  dozen  trusty  followers,  in  Penrch 
of  his  child,  and  had  discovered  no  trace  of  hin.; :  now 
he  was  alone,  weighted  with  treasure,  suflicient  sensibly 
to  retard  his  movements  and  render  him  a  rich  prize  for 
the  outlaws  he  had  gone  to  meet.  Once  he  fancied  he 
heard  a  step  behind  him ;  doubtless  he  was  shadowed  by 
those  who  would  take  his  life  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 
Yet  he  pressed  on,  obliged  to  leave  his  horse  and  proceed 
on  foot,  for  at  times  the  cliffs  were  so  close  together  that 
a  man  could  barely  force  his  way  between  them. 

Just  as  the  last  rays  of  daylight  pierced  the  gloomy 
abyss,  at  a  sudden  turn  in  the  narrowest  part  of  the  gorge 
Don  Gregorio  saw  standing  two  armed  men,  placed  in  such 
a  position  that  the  head  of  one  overtopped  that  of  the 
other,  while  the  features  of  both  were  shadowed  though 
made  the  more  forbidding  by  heav}'  black  beards,  which  it 
occurred  to  him  later  were  probably  false  and  worn  for 
the  purpose  of  disguise.  At  the  feet  of  the  foremost  was 
placed  a  child  ;  and  though  he  restrained  the  cry  that  rose 
to  his  lips,  the  tortured  father  recognized  in  him  his 
son,  —  but  so  emaciated,  so  deathly  pale,  with  such 
wild,  startled  eyes,  gazing  like  a  hunted  creature  before 
him,  yet  seeing  nothing,  that  he  could  scarcely  credit 
it  was  the  same  beautiful,  sensitive,  highly-strung  Nor- 
berto  who  had  been  wrested  from  him  but  a  short  month 
before. 

At  the  sight  the  father  felt  an  almost  irresistible  impulse 
to  precipitate  himself  upon  those  fiends  who  thus  dared  to 
mock  him  ;  but  even  had  his  hands  been  free  to  grasp  the 
pistol  in  his  belt,  to  have  done  so  would  have  been  to 
bring  upon  himself  certain  death.  As  it  was  he  could  but 
look  with  blind  rage  from  the  bags  of  coin  he  carried  to 
the  brigands  who  stood  like  statues,  tht  right  hand  of  the 
foremost  laid  upon  the  throat  of  the  trembling  boy.  Even 
in  that  desperate  moment  Don  Gregorio  noticed  that  the 
hand  was  whiter  and  more  slender  than  the  hands  of  com- 
mon men  are  wont  to  be  ;  the  nails  were  well  formed  and 
well  kept,  though  there  was  a  bruise  or  mark  on  the  second 
one,  as  thougli  it  had  met  some  recent  injury.  He  was  not 
conscious  at  the  time  that  he  noticed  this,  but  it  came  to 
him  afterward.  The  Ibremost  man  did  not  speak  ;  it  was 
the  other  who  in  a  soft  voice,  as  evenly  modulated  as  though 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


167 


'»mo« 


to  words  of  purest  courtesy,  bade  the  SeSor  Garcia  wel« 
and  thanked  him  for  his  prompt  appearance. 

"  Let  us  dispense  with  compliments,"  said  Don  Gre- 
gorio,  husiiily.  *'  Here  is  the  money  you  have  demanded 
for  my  child.  I  know  something  of  the  honor  of  bandits, 
and  as  you  can  gain  nothing  by  falsifying  your  word,  I 
have  chosen  to  trust  in  it.  Here  am  I,  alone  with  the 
gold,"  an^  he  poured  it  out  on  the  rock  at  the  child's 
feet,  —  "  count  it  if  you  will ; "  and  he  put  out  his  hand 
and  laid  it  upon  the  child's  shoulder.  As  he  did  so  his 
hand  touched  the  brigand's,  •  .d  both  started,  glaring  like 


at  that  moment  Nor- 
heap  of  coin  and  into 


two  tigers  before  they  spring  •  I 
berto  bounded  over  the  sctter^x. 
his  father's  arms. 

As  he  felt  that  slight  form  within  his  grasp  the  father 
reeled,  and  his  sight  failed  h  Ji ;  a  voice  presently  recalled 
him  to  his  senses,  and  £  incing  up  he  saw  the  two  men 
still  standing  motionless..,  with  their  pistols  levelled  upon 
him  and  the  child. 

"  The  Sefior  will  find  it  best  to  withdraw  backward," 
said  the  bandit ;  ''  there  is  not  space  here  for  me  to  have 
the  honor  of  passing  and  leading  the  way,  and  it  is  even 
too  narrow  for  your  grace  to  turn.  You  will  find  your 
horse  at  the  entrance  to  the  gorge ;  it  has  been  well  cared 
for.  Adios,  Senor,  and  may  every  felicity  attend  this 
fortunate  termination  of  our  negotiations." 

"  I  doubt  not  there  will,"  cried  Don  Gregorio,  though 
in  a  voice  of  perfect  politeness,  "  for  I  swear  to  you  I  will 
unearth  the  villains  who  have  tortured  and  robbed  me, 
and  give  myself  a  moment  of  exquisite  joy  with  every 
drop  of  life-blood  I  slowly  wring  from  them.  You  have 
my  gold,  and  I  have  my  child,  and  now  —  Vengeance !  " 

Gregorio  Garcia  knew  so  well  the  peculiar  ideas  of  honor 
among  bandits  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  his  countrymen  that 
perhaps  he  was  assured  that  no  immediate  risk  would  fol- 
low this  proclamation.  The  word  "vengeance"  rang 
from  cliff  to  cliff,  yet  the  bandits  only  smiled  mockingly 
and  bowed,  waving  a  hand  in  token  of  farewell,  as  with 
what  haste  he  might  he  withdrew.  A  turn  in  the  gorge 
soon  hid  them  from  his  sight,  and  staggering  through  the 
darkness,  he  hastened  on  with  his  precious  burden,  feeling 
that  Norberto  had  fainted  in  his  arms. 


uv 


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I: 


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i. 


i 

I 


i: 


1G8 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


It  waft  near  midnight  wlicn  Don  Grogorio  reached  the 
hacienda,  and  needless  is  it  to  attempt  to  describe  the  joy 
of  the  mother  at  sight  of  her  child,  though  Norberto,  after 
one  faint  cry  of  recognition,  laid  his  head  upon  her  breast 
with  a  long  shuddering  sigh,  which  warned  her  that  his 
strength  and  courage  had  been  so  overtaxed  that  they 
were,  perhaps,  destroyed  forever. 

As  days  passed,  it  seemed  evident  that  the  njind  of  the 
boy  was  suffering  from  the  shock.  The  male  relatives  who 
during  the  absence  of  Don  Gregorio  had  mostly  dispersed 
to  find,  manlike,  some  distraction  a-field,  returned  one  by 
one  to  embrace  him ;  but  he  turned  from  each  with  un- 
reasoning fear  and  aversion,  unable  to  distinguish  be- 
tween them  and  the  strangers  in  whose  hands  he  had  been 
held  a  prisoner.  At  some  of  them  he  gazed  as  if  fasci- 
nated, especially  at  his  Uncle  Leon ;  and  when  by  any 
chance  the  latter  touched  him  he  would  burst  into  ago- 
nizing wails,  which  ceased  only  when  his  father  held 
him  closely  in  his  arms,  whispering  words  of  affection 
and  encouragement. 

Before  many  days  it  became  evident  that  Norberto  was 
dying.  There  was  a  constant,  low,  shuddering  cry  upon 
his  lips,  "He  will  kiU  me!  — he  wiU  kill  me  if  I  tell!" 
and  the  horrified  father  and  mother  became  convinced  that 
Norberto  knew  at  least  one  of  his  captors,  and  that  deadly 
fear  alone  prevented  him  from  uttering  the  name.  They  en- 
treated him  in  vain ;  and  one  night  the  end  of  the  tortured 
life  drew  near,  and  Norberto's  wailing  cry  was  still. 

The  family  was  alone,  except  for  the  presence  of  Leon 
Vallc  and  a  young  cousin,  Doctor  Genaro  Calderon,  one 
of  the  numerous  family  connections  ;  and  those,  with  the 
Padre  Francisco  and  Doiia  Feliz,  were  gathered  around 
the  bed  of  the  dying  child.  The  father  in  an  agony  of 
grief  and  vengeful  despair  stood  at  the  head,  and  Doiia 
Isabel,  ghostlike  and  haggard  from  her  long  suspense  and 
watching,  was  on  her  knees  at  the  side,  her  eyes  fixed 
>ipon  the  face  of  the  child,  when  suddenly  he  opened  his 
eyes  in  a  wild  stare  upon  Leon  Valle,  who  stood  near  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  and  faintly,  slowly  articulated  the  same 
agonizing  3ry,  "  He  will  kill  me  if  I  tell !  " 

At  that  moment,  as  if  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  Leon 
stretched  out  his  hand  and  placed  a  finger  on  the  lips  of 


CI  [AT A   AND   CIIINITA. 


IGU 


the  (lying  boy.  The  eyes  of  Don  Grcgorio  followed  it; 
find  then  like  a  thunderbolt  hurled  through  space  he  threw 
himself  upon  his  brother-in-law,  grai)pUng  his  throat  with 
a  deathlike  grasp.  lie  had  recognized  the  bruise  upon 
the  second  finger  of  the  white  hand,  —  he  had  recognized 
the  very  hand.  Recalled  to  life  by  the  excitement  of  the 
moment,  Norberto  started  up  and  exclaimed  in  a  loud 
shrill  voice,  ''  Take  him  away  !  He  cut  my  hair  with  his 
bloody  knife !  Oh,  Uncle  Leon,  will  you  kill  me  ? "  and 
fell  back  in  the  death  agony,  —  the  agony  that  only  tlio 
priest  witnessed,  for  even  Isabel  turned  to  the  mortal 
combat  waged  between  her  husband  and  her  brother. 

Don  Gregorio  was  unarmed,  b"t  Leon  had  managed  to 
draw  a  knife  from  his  belt.  The  murderous  dagger  was 
poised  for  a  blow,  when  a  woman  rushed  between  the 
combatants ;  Don  Gregorio  was  flung  bleeding  upon  the 
bed,  Doiia  Feliz  hurled  into  a  corner  of  the  apartment  the 
dagger  which  she  had  grasped  with  her  naked  hand,  and 
Leon  Vallo  rushed  like  a  madman  from  the  room.  Before 
he  could  escape,  however,  he  was  seized,  pinioned,  and 
thrust  like  a  wild  beast  into  one  of  the  solid  stone  rooms 
of  the  building.  Don  Gregorio  was  held  by  main  force 
from  accomplishing  his  purpose  of  taking  the  life  of  the 
unnatural  bandit  ere  the  bolts  were  shot  upon  him.  He 
however  gave  immediate  orders  that  messengers  be  de- 
spatched in  quest  of  police ;  but  by  some  misapprehension 
or  intentional  delay  on  the  part  of  the  administrador  these 
messengers  were  detained  till  dawn,  and  just  as  they  were 
about  to  set  forth,  a  cry  went  through  the  house  that  the 
prisoner  had  escaped. 

Gregorio  Garcia  rushed  to  the  room,  glanced  in  with 
wild,  bloodshot  eyes,  and  then  with  unrestrainable  fury, 
sought  out  his  wife,  and  grasping  her  arm  cried  in  a  voice 
us  full  of  horror  as  of  rage,  "Traitress!  You  have  set 
IVoe  the  murderer  of  your  child !  " 

She  threw  herself  on  her  knees  at  his  feet, — he  never 
knew  with  what  purpose,  whether  to  confess  her  weakness 
or  declare  ler  innocence,  —  for  Dona  Feliz  cast  herself 
between  them. 

"  It  was  1  who  set  him  free !  "  she  exclaimed.  *'  I  love 
the  Garcias  too  well  to  suffer  them  to  be  made  a  mockery 
of  by  the  false  mercy  of  such  laws  us  ours.     Think  you 


i 


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ill  wi 
•X-  A\ 


M'ii'. 


F 

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*"^ 


170 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


tlio  idol  of  tho  bandits  would  bo  sacrificed  for  such  a  triflo 
as  a  child's  life?  And  you,  Gregorio  Garcia,  would  you, 
this  fury  passed,  avenge  your  injuries  in  the  blood  of  your 
wife's  brother,  robber  and  murderer  though  he  be?  Leon 
has  sworn  to  mo  to  hide  himself  forever  from  the  family  he 
has  disgraced,  under  another  name  in  another  land.  Ho 
has  the  brand  of  Cain  upon  his  brow,  —  God  will  surely 
bring  his  doom  upon  him !  " 

Dofia  Fellz  spoko  like  a  prophetess.  The  superb  assur- 
ance upon  which  she  had  acted,  setting  aside  all  rights  of 
man  and  relegating  vengeance  to  tho  Lord,  did  more  to 
reconcile  Don  Gregorio  to  the  escape  of  his  enemy  tlian 
all  further  reflection,  decisive  though  it  was  in  convincing 
him  that  in  the  disordered  and  anarchical  state  of  the 
country,  the  laws  would  have  shielded  rather  than  pun- 
ished an  offender  so  popular  as  was  Leon  Vollt^.  There 
was  perhaps,  too,  a  comfort  in  the  hidden  hope  of  per- 
sonal vengeance  with  which  ho  waited  long  months  to 
learn  the  retreat  of  the  man  who  had  done  him  such 
foul  wrong. 

Meanwhile  the  exact  facts  of  the  case  were  never  known 
abroad ;  and  when  at  last  it  was  rumored  that  Leon  Vallu 
had  been  shot  by  a  rival  guerilla  chief  and  hung  to  a  tree 
placarded  as  a  traitor  and  robber,  there  were  few  to  doubt 
the  story,  or  to  make  more  than  a  passing  comment  on 
the  hard  necessities  of  war.  There  seemed  so  much  poetic 
justice  in  it,  that  Gregorio  Garcia,  who  was  near  tho  end 
of  the  disease  contracted  through  exposure  and  mental 
agony,  did  not  for  a  moment  doubt  it,  and  died  almost 
content.  Indeed,  the  circumstances  were  so  minutely  de- 
tailed by  a  servant  who  had  followed  Leon  in  his  adven- 
turous career  and  who  dared  to  face  the  family  in  order  to 
prove  the  death,  that  even  Doila  Isabel  herself  f'id  not 
question  it  until  long  months  afterward,  when  a  potty 
scandal  stole  through  the  land.  The  lady  of  San  Lazaro 
had  disappeared,  —  whether  of  her  own  free  will,  whether 
in  madness  she  had  strayed,  or  whether  she  had  been 
kidnapped,  none  could  conjecture.  No  demand  for  ran- 
som came,  no  tidings  were  ever  heard  of  the  peerlessly 
beautiful  Dolores. 

It  was  after  that  time  that  Dona  Isabel  began  to  demand 
tidings  of  all  who  came  to  her  door,  and  a  suspicion  en- 


C/IATA   AND   CHINITA. 


171 


tcrcd  her  mind  which  bocamc  a  certainty  upon  tho  night 
our  story  opened,  but  which  no  subsecjucnt  event  hud 
tended  to  confirm  during  the  years  that  had  passed  since 
then. 

This  brief  relation  may  serve  to  explain  the  strange 
emotions  and  experiences  that  made  Dofla  Isabel  wluit 
her  full  womanhood  found  her,  and  which  with  otiier 
events  of  her  later  life  rendered  possible  and  natural 
the  bitter  suspense  and  fear  that  held  her  tho  long  night 
through,  a  watcher  at  the  door  of  one  who,  as  others  had 
done,  might  find  a  means  to  pierce  her  heart  and  wound 
her  pride,  if  not  to  awaken  her  deep  and  passionate 
affections. 


•  i    .It. 


\\\ 


lever  known 
t  Leon  Vallu 
ang  to  a  tree 
few  to  doubt 
comment  on 
>  much  poetic 
near  the  end 
J  and  mental 
[  died  almost 

minutely  de- 
in  his  adven- 
ily  in  order  to 
-rself  '^id  not 
when  a  petty 
f  San  Lazaro 
5  will,  whether 
she  had  been 
mand  for  ran- 

the  peerlessly 


m 


XXII. 


""I 


ha 


hi, 


m' 


I 


?"V 


i  'Hii'i'id 


::*. 


CiiiNiTA  woke  with  a  confused  sensation  of  haste,  and 
in  the  dim  light  discovered  with  a  momentary  surprise  that 
she  was  in  one  of  the  chambers  of  tlie  great  house.  Her 
first  clear  remembrance  was  that  there  was  to  be  a  wedding 
in  the  village  that  day,  and  that  she  must  hasten  to  help 
array  the  bride,  her  old  pla3'mate  Juana,  —  a  girl  scarce 
older  than  herself,  but  who  as  the  daughter  of  the  silver- 
smith held  some  pretentions  to  superior  gentility  among 
the  village  folk.  She  wondered  that  she  was  not  in  the 
hut  with  Floreneia  and  the  children,  and  raised  herself  upon 
one  arm  to  peer  through  the  gloom  at  the  figure  upon  the 
bed ;  then  suddenly  sprang  to  her  feet  with  an  exclama- 
tion. The  sight  of  the  wounded  man  brought  to  memory 
the  train  of  events  connected  with  his  appearance  there. 
The  3'oung  man  was  asleep,  but  evon  if  he  had  been  awake 
and  in  diro  need  of  aid,  Chinita  would  not  have  paused  an 
instant ;  for  it  flap^ied  into  her  mind  that  she  must  see  and 
speak  to  Tic  Reyes  before  he  left.  He  had  told  her  so  little 
—  nothing  that  she  could  separate  as  a  tangible  fact.  She 
must  know  more.  Surely  it  was  early  stilly  —  she  never 
slept  after  daybreak ;  he  would  not  yet  be  gone.  Yet 
in  quick  apprehension,  which  burst  forth  in  an  irate  in- 
terjection at  her  tardy  awakening,  she  ran  out  into  the 
court. 

The  morning  light  was  beaming  there  unmistakably, 
though  no  ray  of  sunlight  penetrated  it ;  and  not  a  creature 
was  stirring,  and  still  hopeful  the  young  girl  hurried  to  the 
outer  court.  The  mingled  sounds  of  the  movements  of 
men  and  horses  greeted  her  ear.  Although  she  was  late, 
Tio  Reyes  perhaps  was  still  there.  Vain  hope  !  One  glance 
around  the  great  couri  showed  her  that  he  whom  she 
sought  was  gone. 

With  an  angry  little  cry,  which  made  more  than  one 
muleteer  turn  to  look  at  her  with,  '*  What  has  happened  to 


CHATA   AND   CHTNTTA. 


173 


ui 


thoc  ?  "  on  his  lips,  Chinita  sped  across  the  court,  and  caught 
the  arm  of  Pedro,  who  was  standing  dejectedly  outside  the 
great  gate.  He  crossed  himself  as  she  appeared,  and  his 
face  lighted  up,  then  clouded  again  as  she  cried,  "  Where 
are  the  soldiers  ?  When  did  they  go  ?  Why  did  no  one 
awaken  me?" 

The  ma'^  pointed  with  a  disdainful  gesture  across  the 
plain.  Florencia  was  standing  at  the  door  of  her  hut, 
calling  in  a  rage  to  a  neighbor  that  those  worthless  vaga- 
])ond8  had  robbed  her  of  her  last  handful  of  toasted  corn ; 
and  Pedro  began  to  explain  to  Chinita  in  his  slow  way  that 
tlic  good  friends  of  the  night  before  had  naturally  enough 
demanded  something  from  the  housewives  upon  which  to 
breakfast,  and  that  instead  of  giving  it  to  them  quietly, 
and  thanking  the  Virgin  that  after  drinking  the  soup  they 
had  not  taken  the  pot,  the  foolish  women  must  needs  scold 
and  bewail,  as  though  soldiers  should  be  saints  and  live  on 
air,  and  as  if  this  was  the  first  raid  that  ever  had  been  heard 
of,  instead  of  a  mere  frolic,  very  different  from  that  of  the 
month  before,  when  the  forces  of  the  clergy  had  carried  off 
a  thousand  bushels  of  maize,  without  as  much  as  a  "  God 
repay  you." 

Chinita  gazed  eagerly  toward  the  east,  and  presently 
burst  into  passionate  tears.  The  sun,  which  a  moment 
before  had  shown  a  tiny  red  disk  above  the  hills,  flooded 
the  plain  with  light,  and  dazzled  her  vision.  Through  it 
she  saw  some  rapidly  moving  figures.  The  man  she 
sought  was  already  miles  away.  Silently  but  bitterly  she 
reproached  herself.  She  had  slept  like  an  insensate  lump, 
and  suffered  to  escape  her  the  man  who  could  have  told 
licr  so  much,  whom  she  would  have  forced  to  speak. 
She  could,  as  her  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the  light, 
distinguish  his  very  figure  in  the  clear  atmosphere ;  and 
yet  he  and  all  she  would  have  learned  were  so  far  awaj'. 

"  What  wouldst  thou?  "  demanded  Pedro,  gruflrty ;  "the 
soldiers  have  carried  ofl'  nothing  of  thine !  Heaven  fore- 
fend  !  Go  to  the  hut  and  drink  the  atol6  if  there  is  any  left, 
and  give  God  the  thanks !  " 

The  broad  daylight  had  cleared  the  mind  of  Pedro  of 
all  the  sentimental  fears  of  the  night.  The  glamour  had 
passed  away ;  there  stood  Chinita  with  the  old  familiar 
ragged  clothing  upon  her,  to  be  talked  with,  caressed  it 


'm 


^  m 


vHl 


ii   rtJ 


^m 


174 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


f'li,  ^if.  t 


m?r"***'*>- 


I 


•  l" 

.  (Ji     •! 

i| 

\l     ■ 

1; 

ijl''  ■    H 

might  be,  certainly  scolded  with  the  mock  severity  of  old. 
Yes,  it  was  the  same  fiery,  uncertain,  irascible  Chinita, 
who,  clearing  her  eyes  of  their  unusual  tears  with  a  back- 
ward sweep  of  her  small  brown  hand,  ran  down  the  hill,  ■ — 
not  to  the  hut  where  Florencia  stood  with  the  water-jar, 
beckoning  her,  but  in  quite  another  direction,  to  join  the 
little  crowd  of  sympathizing  friends  who  were  gathered 
at  the  door  of  the  silversmith. 

Pep6  was  standing  there  with  a  gayly  caparisoned  don- 
key, destined  to  bear  the  7iovia  to  the  village  some  eight 
miles  distant,  where  the  lazy  priest  who  divided  his  time 
between  the  sinners  of  that  point  and  Tres  Hermanos,  had 
consented  to  earn  a  royal  fee  by  uniting  two  poor  peasants 
in  holy  matrimony.  "  It  is  but  for  once,"  Gabriel  had 
hopefully  remarked ;  "and  though  one  runs  in  debt  for  the 
wedding,  one  can  hold  one's  head  above  one's  neighbors, 
to  say  nothing  of  dying  in  peace,  if  a  bull's  horn  finds  its 
way  some  unlucky  day  between  one's  ribs." 

Gabriel  was  a  man  who  honored  the  proprieties,  and 
Juana  was  well  pleased  with  the  good  fortune  that  had 
awarded  her  to  him  ;  though  he  was  cwice  her  age,  and  had 
a  squint  which  made  ludicrous  his  most  amorous  glances. 

''  What  has  happened?"  cried  Pep6  in  a  disappointed 
tone,  as  Chinita  darted  past  him.  "Didst  thou  not  say 
thou  wouldst  ride  with  Juana  ?  She  has  been  waiting  for 
thee  this  half  hour.  The  novio  will  be  on  his  way  before 
her  if  we  tarry  longer,  and  thou  knowest  what  that  por- 
tends. The  impatient  lover  becomes  the  husband  never 
appeased !  the  wife  shall  wait  many  a  day  for  him." 

" Bah !"  returned  Chinita,  "if  Juana  were  of  my  mind 
the  novio  would  wait  so  long  that  her  turn  to  play  at 
2>adenc%a  would  never  arrive." 

"  Go  to !  "  cried  a  woman  who  stood  near,  "  who  would 
ha\  e  imagined  thou  wouldst  be  so  envious,  Chinita ;  and 
thou  but  a  child  j'et  ?  But  thou  art  one  that  hast  been 
brought  up  between  cotton,  and  expectest  the  soft  places 
all  t^v  fife." 

lavvr !  "  answered  Chinita.  "  Speak  of  what  thou 
knowest,  Senora  Goraesinda ;  and  thou,  Pep(§,  cease  making 
eyes  at  me.  Thinkest  thou  I  have  nothing  better  to  do 
than  to  ride  after  Juana  to  see  her  married  to  yon  black 
giant  of  a  vaquero,  who  will  manage  his  wife  as  he  does 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


175 


his  hor^s,  —  with  a  thong  ?  I  tell  thee  as  I  tell  her,  he 
is  not  worth  the  beating  she  got  when  he  asked  for  her ! " 

"4^y,  Seiiora, "  cried  Gomesinda,  shrilly,  "was  ever 
such  r-alk  from  the  mouth  of  a  modest  girl?  What  could 
a  reasonable  father  and  mother  do  for  a  girl  when  a  man 
asks  her  in  marriage  ?  It  is  plain  she  must  have  played 
somc!  tricks  of  our  Seiiora  Madre  Eva  to  have  beguiled 
him.  Ay,  but  I  remember  my  mother  flailed  me  black  and 
blue  when  Jos6  asked  for  me.  I  warrant  you  I  screamed 
so  hard  the  whole  neighborhood  knew  she  was  doing  the 
lionorable  part  by  me.  Thank  Heaven,  I  knew  what  was 
proper  as  well  as  another,  and  if  I  had  given  the  man  a 
glance  from  the  corner  of  my  eyes,  I  was  willing  my 
shoulders  should  suffer  for  it.  One  may  tell  of  it  when 
one  is  the  mother  of  ten  children." 

During  this  harangue,  Chinita  had  slipped  by  her,  and 
darted  into  the  hut.  She  threw  her  arms  around  the  ex- 
pectant bride,  who  dressed  in  the  stiffest  of  starched  skirts, 
the  upper  one  of  which  was  of  flowered  pink  muslin,  stood 
waiting  the  finishing  touches  of  her  sponsor. 

"  What,  thou  art  not  read}'^?  "  cried  Juana  in  a  dejected 
tone,  surveying  Chinita  with  disapproving  eyes.  "  Gabriel 
has  twice  sent  messages  that  the  sun  has  risen,  and  that 
the  Seiior  Priest  likes  not  to  be  kept  long  fasting,  and 
thou  knowest,  as  the  priest  sings  the  sacristan  answers." 

"  Ay,"  said  Chinita,  laughing,  "  a  lesson  in  patience 
will  be  good  for  both  the  priest  and  thy  Gabriel ;  but  it 
will  bode  thee  ill  if  he  learns  it  at  the  tavern,  as  I  saw 
liira  doing  just  now.  Trul}^  Juana,  thou  must  go  without 
me.  I  am  in  no  humor  to  go  so  far  on  thy  ambling 
donkej' ; "  and  she  drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of 
hauteur,  which  did  not  escape  the  observant  eye  of  the 
bride,  who  said,  with  a  reproachful  look, — 

''  What  have  I  done  ?  Did  I  ever  give  thee  a  sharp 
word,  Chinita?" 

For  answer,  Chinita  threw  her  arms  around  the  girl's 
neck ;  for  she  was  really  fond  of  Juana,  who  had  ever 
been  a  gentle  girl,  and  had  borne  her  perverse  humors 
with  a  sort  ot  admiring  patience  which  had  flattered  and 
won  the  heart  of  the  wayward  one.  Completely  mollified, 
Juana  pressed  her  cheek  against  Chinita's  shoulder,  for 
she  had  turned  her  face  away,  and  said,  "  But  thou  wilt 


11 


!  I      i'. 


<taP*v*'^ 


176 


CHATA  AND   CIIINITA. 


put  on  thy  finest  clothes  and  cit  beside  me  at  )  .he  fan- 
dango, wilt  thou  not?  And  thou  wilt  help  my  tponsor 
to  dress  me.  See !  Dost  thci  think  she  has  dOi  e  well 
this  time  ? "  and  the  girl  thre^v'  her  scatf  from  he  '  head 
and  shoulders,  and  exhibited  her  long,  well-oiled  .  resses 
with  an  air  of  conscious  vanity. 

"Nothing  could  be  better,"  declared  Chinita, heartily, 
pulling  out  a  loop  of  the  bright  red  ribbons.  "  Yes, 
yes,"  she  adled  with  some  effort,  " I  will  stay  beside  thee 
all  through  the  feast.  Thou  hast  ever  been  a  good  friend 
of  mine,  Juana.  There,  there,  they  are  calling  thee;" 
and  she  pushed  her  toward  the  door,  where  by  this  time 
a  noisy  crowd  had  gathered. 

Instead  of  only  one  donkey,  there  were  five  or  six 
standing  there,  with  gii.)"  l>ridles  and  necklaces  of  horse- 
hair, brightened  with  cortls  of  red  or  blue,  and  with  pan- 
niers covered  with  well-trimmed  sheepskins.  As  the  Sen- 
ora  Madrina  said,  "  Ishe  who  should  ride  upon  them  would 
think  herself  on  cushions  of  down."  On  the  most  lux- 
urious of  these  rural  ihrones  Juana  was  raised,  and  upon 
the  others  her  mother  and  a  number  of  her  female  friends, 
mostly  in  pairs,  were  accommodated ;  and  with  many  in- 
junctions from  the  bystanders  to  hasten,  the  bridal  party 
vv  jre  at  last  dismissed  upon  their  way. 

Laughing  and  chattering,  the  women  dispersed  to  their 
huts  to  grind  a  fresh  stint  of  maize  to  replace  the  tortillar 
and  atole  that  had  been  carried  away  b}'^  the  soldiers  ;  but 
Chinita  sat  down  at  the  door  of  the  adobe  hut  thus  tem- 
porarily deserted,  and  with  a  smile  of  derision  upon  her 
lips  watched  the  group  of  men  congregated  around  the 
village  shop.  The  bridegroom,  a  middle-aged  man,  with 
a  dark  face  deeply  imbrowned  by  the  sun  and  seamed 
with  scars  (for  ho  had  b<ien  a  soldier  before  he  was  a 
vaqucro),  stood  in  the  midst  of  them,  dressed  in  a  suit  of 
butf  leather,  gay  with  embroidery.  The  embossed  leather 
sheath  of  his  knife  showed  in  his  scarlet  waist-scarf,  and 
immense  spurs  clanked  on  his  heels  in  response  to  tho 
buttons  and  chains  on  the  half-opened  sides  of  his  riding 
trousers  of  goat-skin.  He  was  a  picturesque  tigurc  — 
though  Chinita's  accustomed  eyt^s  failed  to  recognize  that 
■—as  he  stood  with  his  wide,  silvf  r-laced  hat  pushed  back 
upon  the  mat  of  black  hair  that  crowned  his  swarthy 


\h  .: 


CHATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


vri 


.he  fan- 

iponsor 
3j  e  well 
le  '  head 
1    vesses 

,  heartily, 
'*  Yes, 
jside  thee 
od  friend 
ig  thee;" 
this  time 

jre  or  six 

of  borse- 

with  pan- 
.8  the  Sen- 
liem  would 

most  lux- 
,  and  upon 
die  friends. 
li  many  in- 
n-idal  party 

sed  to  their 
Lhc  tortillaf 
ikUers;  but 
t  thus  tem- 
n  upon  her 
arouiid  the 
1  man,  with 
and  seamed 
re  he  was  a 
I  in  a  suit  of 
)3scd  leather 
st-scarf,  aiul 
iponse  to  the 
of  his  riding 
quo  tigurc  — 
ccognizc  that 
pushed  back 
his  swarthy 


holding 


high 


the  small  glass  of   mezc 


countenance, 

which  he  was  about  to  drink  in  favor  of  the  toast  some 
conu-nde  had  proposed.  Meanwhile,  his  companions  were 
noisily  hilarious,  rallying  him  with  impossible  prophcgies 
of  good  fortune,  to  which  he  listened  with  an  air  of  imi)or- 
turl)'a,bilit3'  which  was  part  of  the  etiquette  of  the  occasion, 
—  for  in  all  the  world  can  be  found  no  greater  slave  to 
his  peculiar  code  of  manners  than  the  Mexican  ranchero. 

The  party  on  donkey-back  had  almost  disappeared  upon 
the  horizon  before  it  seemed  to  occur  to  the  group  at  the 
tavern  store  that  any  movement  was  expected  from  them. 
More  than  once  the  women  liad  stopped  in  their  house- 
hold tasks  to  call  out  a  shrill  "  Go  on !  go  on !  By  the 
saints,  man,  will  you  keep  the  priest  waiting?"  and  still 
Gabriel  affected  the  indifferent,  until  as  if  by  accident  he 
strolled  toward  his  horse,  which  stood  champing  the  bit 
impatiently.  Immediately  there  was  a  rush  of  his  best 
friends,  and  the  triumi)hant  one  who  caught  the  stirrup 
and  held  it  as  the  bridegroom  mounted  claimed  the  luck- 
gift  for  the  good  news  of  the  departure, — which  w:'i 
effected  at  once  after  a  series  of  pirouettes  and  caracolling, 
by  Gabriel's  putting  spurs  to  his  steed  and  gallooing  madly 


away,  followed  by  his  friends  as  quickly  as 
throw  themselves  into  their  saddles. 

The  spell  of  the  day  bofore  continued  still  so  ' 
her  that  Chinita  neither  joined  in  the  cheer  no; 
tcr  of  the  women,  but  turned  slowl}'  toward  Pv 
The  cravings  of  a  healthy  appetite  subdued  for 
ment  the  pride  that  scorned    the  lowly  homo. 


icy  v;o'»;d 

''est  upon 

lIic  laugh- 

.  Iro''?  but. 

th"    no- 


was 


natural  to  go  there 


the 


draught 


of 


for  the  corn-cake  and 
atole  or  chocolate  with  which  to  break  her  fast.  She 
found  the  share  left  for  her ;  but  after  a  mouthful  or  two 
it  seemed  to  grow  bitter  to  her  taste.  She  divided  it  petu- 
lantly among  the  children  who  clamored  around  her,  and 
in  response  to  a  call  from  Florencia  went  to  Selsa's  hut 
where  they  were  mfiking  tortillas  for  the  wedding  feast, 
arrogantly  refusing  to  help,  yet  glad  of  accustomed  co;  i- 
panion-hip.  Much  as  she  resented  old  associations,  tiso 
wrench  was  too  great  for  her  to  separate  herself  from  them 
at  once,  especially  as  she  had  no  conception  of  what  could 
or  sliould  take  their  place.  She  was  like  a  child  upon  the 
banks  of  i  river  that  separates  it  from  the  farther  shore 

12 


,J 


.1,  .■ 


.:f 


■'mA 


M: 


178 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


\ 


l'.;i  ■ 


which  it  lonj^s  to  reach,  though  dreading  to  \\yS\\  forth 
from  the  land  it  knows,  rough  and  forlorn  though  it  may 
be.  There  was  with  Chinita  a  strange  sense  of  ci'inging 
to  a  past  which  was  irrevocal)l3'  severed  from  her,  of  impa- 
tience ol'  a  problem  of  the  future  to  be  solved,  and  of  Inclc 
of  will  to  set  herself  to  its  solution,  as  she  went  from  hut  to 
hut.  The  fever  of  her  mind  expended  itself  first  in  seeth- 
ing irony  and  jests,  and  later  in  a  wild  repentance,  which 
manifested  itself  in  quick  embraces  of  the  half  offended 
women,  and  in  practical  toil,  which  effectually  promoted 
the  preparations  for  the  feast,  and  went  far  to  restore  her 
to  the  good  graces  of  the  harassed  workers.  Indeed, 
often  enough  they  paused  in  their  labors  to  listen  and 
laugh,  as  she  stood  at  the  brasiers  fanning  the  glowing 
charcoal,  or  watching  the  tortillas  taken  from  the  flat 
comal  and  piled  in  heaps  upon  the  fringed  and  embroi- 
dered napkins  used  on  such  occasions  of  ceremon}' ;  or 
went  from  dish  to  dish  of  black  beans,  or  red  and  ficiy 
chile  rich  with  pork  or  fowl ;  or  gazed  with  positive  admi- 
re, .ion  upon  the  kids  and  lambs,  stuffed  with  almonds 
and  raisins,  forcemeat  and  olives,  and  other  delicacies, 
whicli  drawn  smoking  from  the  earthen  ovens  attested 
the  generosity  of  the  administrador  toward  his  favorite 
vaquero. 

Toward  noon  the  bride  and  her  party  returned,  am- 
bling home  upon  their  donkeys,  as  humbl}^  as  the}'  had 
gone.  .Tuana  was  conducted  to  her  future  home,  and  licr 
mother-in-law,  welcoming  her  with  distant  ceremony,  in- 
tended to  inspire  respect,  suffered  her  to  touch  her  check 
v/ith  her  lips,  then  led  her  to  the  inner  room,  where  lay 
the  apparel  for  her  adornment,  —  a  number  of  toilets  being 
indispensable  upon  the  occasion,  and  indi(!ative  of  the  pre- 
tensions of  the  bridegroom  who  liad  hired  them. 

Chinita,  in  her  mingled  mood  of  disdain  and  levity,  had 
neglected  to  keep  her  promise  of  putting  on  holiday  attire, 
and  stood  in  some  awe  and  much  admiration  before  the 
bride  as  slie  at  last  appeared  in  the  little  bower  or  tent 
that  had  been  raised  for  her  at  one  side  of  the  hut,  facing 
upon  the  plaza  where  the  feast  was  to  be  held.  The  little 
woman  —  for  she  was  not  fully  grown  —  was  resplendent 
in  a  stilF-fiowered  brocade  of  niany  colors,  trimmed  with 
real  Spanish  lace  and  bedecked  with  flowers,  and  wore  a 


CHATA  AND  CIHNITA. 


179 


necklace  and  bracelets  of  imitation  pjems  sot  in  filagree,  fit, 
as  hcv  sponsor  proudly  declared,  for  the  Blessed  Virgin 
upon  the  high  altar. 

Juana  threw  a  glance  of  reproach  upon  Chinita ;  but 
her  new  dignity  forbade  recrimination.  A  shout  })rcsontly 
announced  that  the  bridegroom  was  in  sight.  Tlie  bride, 
well-drilled  in  her  part,  kept  her  glance  fixed  on  the 
ground  ;  and  as  he  swept  by  her  bower  Gabriel  deigned 
not  a  look,  but  reined  in  his  horse  at  his  own  door  with  a 
sudden  turn  of  the  hand  which  almost  threw  the  animal 
on  its  haunches,  and  before  his  stirrup  could  be  seized  had 
thrown  himself  from  his  saddle  and  was  shaking  hands 
with  his  friends,  and  immediately  the  feast  began. 

There  was  no  table  set.  The  fires  burned  at  the  corners 
of  the  plaza,  and  the  women  stood  over  them,  dispensing 
the  fragrant  contents  of  the  jars  to  all  comers.  Yet  in 
this  apparent  informality  the  strictest  decorum  was  ob- 
served, and  not  a  mouthful  was  swallowed  or  a  drink  of 
pulque  or  milky  cliia,  without  a  friendly  interchange  of 
courtesies,  which  rather  increased  than  grew  less  as  the 
hours  flew  by. 

The  proverb  is  true  that  at  a  w-idding  the  bride  eats 
least ;  and  at  that  of  the  Mexican  peasant  the  saying  be- 
comes a  law.  Juana  was  too  well  drilled  in  the  proprieties 
to  touch  a  morsel  of  the  delicacies  otfcied  her,  but  wore 
constantly  the  air  of  timid  resignation  with  which  she  had 
met  the  assumed  indifference  of  her  spouse,  who  resolutely 
avoided  casting  even  a  glance  in  the  direction  where  she 
held  her  court,  —  the  women  crowding  with  ever  increasing 
admiration  to  view  her  after  each  change  of  toilet,  as  they 
might  have  done  to  examine  a  gorgeous  picture,  comment- 
ing loudl}'  upon  the  taste  of  the  dresser  and  the  liberality 
of  the  groom.  But  nothing  cov'-l  be  more  satisfactory  to 
hor  than  this  feigned  indifference  of  her  husband.  "  Is  not 
(lahriel  an  angel?  "  she  took  occasion  to  ask  Chinita,  as  for 
the  tenth  time  she  was  changing  her  apparel.  "  Imagine  to 
yourself  twelve  changes  of  clothing,  and  he  acts  as  if  the 
hiring  of  them  were  nothing!  Wiiat  a  ditrerence  between 
him  and  I'ancho  Orteago,  who  was  married  at  Easter ! 
Four  beggarly  suits  were  all  ho  provided  for  Anita,  and  not 
one  silk  among  them  ;  and  he  actually  was  quite  close  to  her 
again  and  again,  with  mouth  open,  as  if  he  would  eat  her  ! 


'1 


■'•  Mt^    ■ 


'if 


;• 


■I  1. 


180 


CIIATA   AND  CHINITA. 


fm^t^ 


ii  it- 


Such  an  idiot !  Ho  would  liavc  spoken  to  her  if  he  had 
had  the  chance.  I  should  think  she  was  half  dead,  with 
mortification !  Such  foolishness  in  public !  Her  mother 
cried  with  vexation ;  and  no  wonder,  with  such  a  slur  cast 
on  the  family !  " 

"  Yet  it  has  been  like  a  marriage  of  turtle-doves  ! "  cried 
Chinita.  "  Let  us  see,  little  woman,  if  thou  wilt  say  that 
of  thy  own  six  months  hence  ! " 

Juana  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  returned  to  her  seat, 
with  her  eyes  more  coyly  cast  down,  and  a  dejected  mien, 
which  might  not  have  been  altogether  nsdumcd ;  for,  too 
earnest  in  acting  her  part  even  to  tako  food  in  private,  she 
was  not  unnaturally  almost  spent  with  the  long  and  cere- 
monious state  which  for  perhaps  the  only  time  in  her  life 
she  was  called  upon  to  maintain. 

By  this  time,  torches  of  fat  pine  were  blazing  at  every 
door-post,  and  the  strumming  of  harps  and  guitars  and 
many  primitive  instruments  became  incessant.  Groups  of 
men,  drowsy  or  hilarious,  as  the  mezcal  and  pulque  they 
had  drunk  chanced  to  affect  them,  were  stretched  on  the 
ground,  lazily  watching  and  criticising  the  slow  and  untir- 
ing movements  of  the  fandango  ;  now  and  then  one  would 
spring  up,  to  place  himself  before  some  dusky  partner, 
who  would  raise  the  song  in  her  shrill  monotone,  swaying 
and  bending  her  body  in  unison  with  the  gliding  steps, 
which  seemed  as  untiring  as  they  were  fascinating. 

Occasionally  the  shrill  song  of  the  women  was  enlivened 
by  the  snapping  of  the  fingers  and  thumbs  of  the  men ; 
and  more  than  once,  though  it  had  been  forbidden,  the 
sharp  crack  of  a  pistol-shot  indicated  the  irrepressible  ex- 
citement of  some  enthusiastic  dancer.  As  the  night  wore 
on,  the  click  of  the  castanets  became  more  frequent,  and 
the  weird  and  tender  refrain  of  La  paloma  gave  place  to 
a  bacchanalian  chorus.  Yet  this  chorus  ever  bore  an 
undertone  of  pathos  and  sentiment  which  seemed  to 
render  impossible  the  absolute  frenzy  and  rudeness  of 
mirth  that  would  be  apt  to  characterize  such  scenes  in 
other  lands, — tliough  the  element  of  danger  that  lurked 
within  began  to  Jihow  itself  in  scornful  glances,  and  the 
contemptuous  turning  of  shoulder  or  head. 

The  night  ^?':ci  ciiilly  and  dark,  for  it  was  the  rainy  sea- 
son, and  th< . .     -as  no  moon  ;  but  the  light  from  scores  of 


\f 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


181 


he  had 
id,  with 
mother 
lur  cast 

I "  cried 
aay  that 

icr  seat, 
id  mien, 
for,  too 
irate,  she 
md  cerc- 
i  her  life 

at  every 
itars  and 
groups  of 
Iquc  they 
3d  on  the 
md  untir- 
pne  would 
r  partner, 
swaying 
ng  steps, 

|CT, 

enlivened 
the  men; 
(Iden,  the 
3ssible  ex- 
light  wore 
|[uent,  and 
re  place  to 
r  bore  an 
seemed    to 
ideness   of 
scenes  in 
ihat  lurked 


!  rainy  sca- 
m  scores  of 


torches  and  from  the  tripod  of  burning  pitch  set  in  the 
middle  of  the  plaza  illuminated  the  entire  village.  The 
great  house  was  set  so  high  that  the  lurid  glare  reached 
no  further  than  its  gates ;  yet  while  its  massive  fa9ade 
was  in  comparative  darkness,  from  its  windows  the  scene 
of  revelry  was  glowingly  distinct,  and  irresistibly  attracted 
even  the  indifferent  gaze  of  Dona  Isabel. 

Late  in  the  evening  she  stepped  into  her  balcony  ;  Dona 
Fcliz  joined  her,  and  they  wrapped  themselves  in  their 
black  rebosos,   and  silently  regarded   the   scene.     The 
dances  and  sports  of  the  peasantry  had  been  familiar  to 
them  from  their  childhood.     A   pleasurable   excitement 
thrilled  the  veins  of  each  as  they  gazed.    This  gayety  was 
as  far  beneath  them  as  the  follies  of  our  life  ma}'  be  be- 
neath the  pleasures  of  angels,  yet  pleased  the  exalted 
sense  of  kindly  interest  in  the  affairs  of  plebeian  humanity. 
They  began  to  murmur  to  each  other  something  of  this 
feeling,   when  suddenly   both  became   silent.     A   single 
figure  had  caught  the  glances  of  both.     It  was  that  of  Chi- 
nita,  who,  scornful  and  cool  while  the  slow  afforados  and 
jarahes  were  in  progress,  had  3'ielded  to  the  seductive 
strains  of  the  waltz,  and  was  drawn  from  her  station  at 
Juana's  side  by  a  rual  beau  from  a  neighbonng  village. 
The  two  whirled  in  the  maz^'  dance,  presentl}'  beginning  a 
series  of  improvised  changes,  possible  only  to  the  subtle 
grace  of  youth  under  the  spell  of  excitement  wrought  to 
its  height  by  music,  wine,  and  amorous  flattery.     One  by 
one  the  other  couples  ceased  dancing,  the  fingers  of  the 
musicians  flew  over  their  instruments,  and  the  swift  feet  of 
Chinita  and  her  partner  kept  time.    Sometimes  they  swept 
together  around  the  circle   formed  by  the  admiring  on- 
lookers ;  anon  Chinita,  lifting  her  arms  to  the  cadence  of 
the  music,  waved  her  swain  away,  and  circled  round  him 
like  a  bird  poising  for  descent,  then  glided  again  to  his 
arms  ;  or  turning  one  bare  shoulder  from  which  the  rcboso 
iuul  fallen,  looked  back  upon  him  with  soft,  languorous 
(!yes  which  challenged  pursuit,  while  she  fled  with  the 
speed  of  the  wind. 

The  circle  were  enraptured,  and  broke  into  loud  vivas ^ 
or  joined  in  the  words  of  the  air  to  which  the  pair  were 
dancing.  Pedro  stood  with  the  rest,  watching  with  shin- 
hig  eyes  ;  but  at  his  side  was  a  young  woman,  whose  dark 


Mi 

".I 


"S 


i 


m 

n 


M 

J"    * 


182 


CJ/ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


F 


fur; 


'"'"**>,. 


l)rows  'vcrc  drawn  to5j;ctlicr  in  a  spasm  o^  rage.  This  was 
Elvira,  a  3'Oiin«j;  widow,  to  whom  tiu  Lranger  was  plighted, 
tiiid  who  ill  tliG  utter  abuiidoiimori.  r«'  hor  lover  to  the 
dance  with  another  younger  and  I'airer  than  hcrsoH', 
found  a  fair  excuse  for  the  nuid  jealousy  that  surged 
through  heart  and  brain,  and  convulsed  her  features. 
But  there  was  none  to  notice  her ;  all  eyes  were  bent  uj)on 
tlic  dancers,  when  a  sudden  turn  brought  them  both  before 
the  infuriated  woman.  Seizing  a  knife  from  the  belt  of 
the  unconscious  Pedro,  she  sprang  toward  Chinita,  with 
intent  to  wreak  the  usual  vengeance  of  the  jealous  countr}'- 
woman  b}'  slashuig  her  across  the  cheek  or  mouth,  and 
thus  destroying  her  beaut}'  forever.  But  quick  as  a  flash 
Pepe,  the  derided  but  faithful,  threw  himself  between 
them,  receiving  the  blow  in  his  arm ;  but  siiouting  and 
gesticulating  with  pain,  he  made  ridiculous  a  scene  which 
might  have  been  heroic. 

This  was  no  uncommon  incident  at  such  gatherings,  and 
roused  more  laughter  than  disma}'.  The  dance  suddenly 
ceased.  Chinita,  panting  with  exertion,  threw  herself  with 
a  cry  for  protection  upon  Pedro,  who  in  rage  had  involun- 
tarily grasped  for  the  missing  knife  that  had  so  nearly  ac- 
complished so  foul  a  work  ;  and  Benito,  recalled  to  his  al- 
legiance by  this  undoubted  proof  of  his  Elvira's  devotion, 
turned  to  her  with  words  of  mingled  reproach  and  endear- 
ment. Pepe,  in  spite  of  his  outciy,  was  quite  unnoticed  in 
the  general  excitement  until  his  sister  the  bride,  forgetting 
her  dignity,  forced  her  way  through  the  crowd  and  bound 
her  large  lace  handkerchief  over  the  bleeding  wound. 

"  Thou  shalt  come  home !  "  said  Pedro,  resolutely,  as 
Chinita  struggled  in  his  grasp,  with  a  half  defined  intention 
of  assailing  the  woman  who  had  assaulted  her,  and  who 
was  being  led  sobbing  away  In*  her  repentant  lover. 
'"Whai  will  the  Senora  think  of  thee?"  he  added  in  a 
whisper.     "  She  is  on  her  balcony." 

Chinita  glanced  up.  She  could  see  nothing  against  the 
great  blank  wall  that  loomed  in  the  near  distance,  but  a 
sensation  of  acute  shame  overcame  her.  She  suddenly 
lememliered  that  which  in  her  brief  delirium  she  had  for- 
gotten. She  turned  fi'om  the  throng  as  though  they  had 
been  serpents,  and  flod  up  the  path  to  the  gale,  dash- 

The    postern 


inir 


aijrainst 

CD 


it    breathless. 


was 


open. 


Siie  fe 
full  ui 
lookiuj 
vestibi 
eved  w 
"  "  VV] 
like  a  ( 
a  grip  < 
wound: 
God ! 

self  to  1 
wonder 
give  hei 
will  her 
"  Wh 
girl  by  t 
such  ca?; 
She  thrc 

who   8tO( 

white,  3'( 
crated,  si 
ciuls  to 
colorless] 
"  before 

TJie  gj 
each  oth| 
the  way 
erect  anj 
but  his 
gave  wai 
l^ass,  loc 
Pedro   a| 
moveme^ 
eyes  of 

nianifestl 
Doiia  Fc 
slie  had 
for  use. 
ft  conimc 
frustrate] 
He  be 


CIIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


183 


Slio  fclV  for  It  with  hor  hands  and  darted  throu<j;h,  coming 
lull  npon  Dona  Isabel.  Feliz  Ibllowcd  her  lady,  both 
lookinj^  like  8i)ectres  nnder  the  rou^h  stone  arch  of  the 
vestibule,  with  its  grim  garniture  of  serpents  and  lleree- 
eycd  wild  beasts. 

*'  Wretched  girl ! "  cried  Dofia  Isabel,  as  Chinita  stopped 
like  a  deer  at  bay.  "  Wretched  girl !  "  grasping  her  with 
a  grij)  of  steel,  yet  shaking  as  with  a».  ..e.  ''  IJast  thou  a 
wound?  Js  the  mark  of  shame  on  thy  face  alrcativ?  My 
God  !     Oh,  child  !     Canst  thou  not  speak?  " 

"  I  will  kill  her !  "  gasped  Chinita,  too  much  excil  d  her- 
self to  be  surprised  by  the  agitation  of  J-)ona  Isabel,  or  \a 
wonder  at  her  presence.  "  To-morrow  1  will  lind  her  and 
give  her  such  a  blow  as  she  would  have  given  me.  What 
will  her  Benito  care  for  her  then?" 

"  What  is  he  to  thee?"  cried  Dona  Isabel,  catching  the 
girl  by  the  wrist,  and  looking  into  her  eyes,  —  "  he  or  any 
such  canalla?  Come  thou  with  me  !  —  with  me,  I  sa}' !  '* 
She  threw  a  glance,  half  inquiring,  half  defiant,  at  Feliz, 
who  stood  with  her  eyes  cast  down,  her  face  strangely 
white,  yet  inexpressive.  "  Come  thou  with  me,"  she  reit- 
erated, scanning  the  girl  from  her  unkempt  shock  of  tawny 
curls  to  her  unshod  feet.  A  blush  passed  over  the  usually 
colorless  and  haughty  face  of  the  lady,  as  she  added  slowly, 
"  before  it  is  too  late." 

The  girl  and  the  mistress  of  Tres  ITermanos  looked  at 
each  otiier  searchingl}' ;  then  Dona  Isabel  turned  and  led 
the  way  across  the  court.  Chinita  followed  her  with  head 
erect  and  sparkling  eyes.  Pedro  entered  at  the  instant, 
but  his  foster  daughter  did  not  hear  him  ;  but  Feliz,  who 
gave  wa}  that  the  strangely  associated  lady  and  girl  might 
pass,  looked  up,  and  her  cj'cs  mot  those  of  the  gatekeeper. 
Pedro  approached  with  his  Indian,  cat-like  silence  of 
movement,  and  found  her  standing  as  if  in  a  dream.  The 
eyes  of  the  man  filled  with  tears.  He  was  too  lowlj'  to 
manifest  resentment  at  the  studied  reserve  he  believed 
Doiia  Feliz  had  for  j'ears  preserved  toward  him,  while  still 
she  had  made  him  her  tool.  He  and  such  as  he  were  made 
for  use.  Yet  inferior  as  he  was,  they  had  been  workers  in 
a  common  cause,  and  their  common  purposes  seemed  now 
frustrated  at  a  word. 

He  bent  huniblv  and  touched  the  fringe  of  her  reboso. 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


I/a 


184 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


"  Have  I  done  well,  Dona  Feliz?"  he  queried  in  a  broken 
voice.  ''Alas!  I  can  do  no  more.  You  see  how  blood 
flows  to  blood,  as  the  brooks  turn  to  the  river. " 

Feliz  started.  "  Strange !  strange !  "  she  muttered. 
She  turned  upon  Pedro  a  glance  of  mingled  pitj'  and 
deprecation.  She  seemed  about  to  say  more,  but  paused. 
"  Thou  art  a  good  man,  Pedro,"  she  presently  whispered. 
"  Thou  hast  done  a  greater  work  than  thou  guessest.  Be 
content.  Thou  knowest  the  child's  nature, —  Chinita  will 
not  suffer  with  Dona  Isabel ;  but  she  who  thrust  from  her 
bosom  the  dove  will  perchance  warm  the  adder  into  life." 

'•No,  no!"  cried  the  man,  vehemently.  "Cruel,  bit- 
ter woman !  Chinita  hath  been  my  child,  and  though  she 
turn  from  me  I  will  hear  no  evil  of  her.  I  will  live  or  die 
for  her ! "  The  unwonted  outburst  ended  in  a  sob,  and 
before  he  could  speak  again,  DoHa  Feliz  had  passed 
across  the  court,  but  —  strange  condescension !  —  she  had 
seized  his  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips,  in  irresistible 
homage  to  a  devotion  as  pure  and  unselfish  as  that  of  the 
loftiest  knight  who  ever  drew  sword  in  the  cause  of 
helpless  innocence. 

Pedro  turned  to  his  alcove  dazed,  stunned.  To  him  it 
was  as  if  a  star  should  leave  its  place  in  heaven  to  touch 
the  vilest  clod  upon  the  highway.    A  very  miracle ! 


XXIII. 

Although  Dona  Rita  had  left  her  home  upon  a  sad 
errand,  and  her  tears  flowed  fast  when  on  embracing  her 
mother  she  beheld  upon  her  countenance  the  shadow  of 
death,  that  first  startling  impression  vanquished,  she 
allowed  herself  to  be  deceived  %  the  fitful  brightness  that 
hovers  over  the  consumptive ;  and  as  days  passed  on  she 
felt  a  pleased  sense  of  freedom  and  relaxation,  and  her 
return  to  her  early  home,  which  had  been  undertaken  as 
a  pilgrimage,  assumed  much  of  the  character  of  an 
ordinary  visit  of  pleasure. 

Dona  Rita  was  a  member  of  a  large  family,  of  whom 
most  had  married ;  so  that  her  parents,  relieved  from  cares 
that  had  long  pressed  upon  them,  were  enabled  to  live  in 
the  little  town  of  El  Toro  with  an  ease  and  comfort  from 
which  in  their  narrow  circumstances  the}^  had  necessarily 
been  debarred  while  tha  children  were  dependent.  They 
were,  strictly  speaking,  people  of  the  class  known  as  medio 
pelo,  or  "  the  half-clothed  order,"  as  far  below  the  aris- 
tocrat as  above  the  plebeian ;  and  Rita  Farias  had  been 
thought  to  have  risen  greatly  in  life  when  she  became  the 
wife  of  Rafael  Sanchez,  though  he  was  then  but  a  clerk, 
the  son  of  the  administrador  of  Tres  Hermanos,  with  no 
prospect  of  succeeding  soon  to  his  honors.  But  as  the 
pious  neighbors  said  when  they  heard  of  the  early  death 
of  the  bridegroom's  father,  "God  blessed  her  with  both 
hands,"  of  which  one  held  marriage,  and  the  other  death  ; 
so  Dona  Rita  was  accustomed  when  she  at  rare  intervals 
visited  her  parents  to  be  looked  upon  with  ever  increasing 
respect.  Such  «ilken  skirts  and  rebosos  as  she  wore  were 
seldom  seen  within  the  quiet  precincts  of  El  Toro. 

Dona  Rita  herself  was  not  quite  clear  upon  the  point  as 
to  whether  or  not  her  native  place  could  be  considered  to 
rival  "  the  City,"  as  Mexico  was  called  par  excellence,  or 
even  Guadalajara,  which  she  had  heard  was  a  labyrintli  of 
palaces ;  but  Rosario  who  had  seen  El  Toro  declared  to 


■• 


1        T     fr  ■ 

n 
i 

i 
I 

'Ml 

^'  ■  1  lit'! 

i      - 

|il    M 

■1  ■  1    •  ' 

■1i;i> 

'' 

»(■• 


f       fj 


'il.; 


18G 


CHATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


Chata  that  nothing  could  be  finer,  and  Chata  herst^lf  was 
(]iiite  convinced  of  that  when  opening  her  ej'cs  suddenly 
ui)on  the  clear  moonlight  night  on  which  the  diligence 
stui)t)ed  before  the  door  of  the  inn,  she  first  looked  out 
upon  the  plaza. 

The  two  girls  shivered  a  little  in  their  sudden  awakening, 
as,  scarcely  knowing  how,  they  were  lifted  from  the  dili- 
gence and  stood  upon  their  feet  -••t  the  door  of  the  inn, 
with  an  injunction  to  watch  tlie  basket,  the  five  parcels 
tied  in  paper  or  towels,  the  drinking-gourd,  the  bottle  of 
claret,  and  the  young  parrot  which  their  mother  had  brought 
with  her  as  a  suitable  gift  to  her  declining  relative.  With 
habitual  obedience  they  did  as  they  were  bid,  more  than 
once  rescuing  a  parcel  from  the  long,  skinn}'  claw  of  a 
blear-ej'ed  hag,  who  crouched  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall 
whining  for  alms,  while  at  the  same  time  the}'  cast  their 
admiring  glances  at  the  really  beautiful  church  upon  which 
the  white  rays  of  the  moonlight  streamed,  converting  it  for 
the  nonce  into  a  symmetrical  pile  of  virgin  snow  or  spotless 
alabaster.  The  priest's  house,  a  long  low  building  with 
numerous  barred  windows,  stood  on  one  side  of  it,  while  an 
angle  of  the  square  was  formed  by  a  mass  of  buildings,  the 
frowning  walls  of  which  were  apparently  unpierced  by  door 
or  window.  This  was  a  convent.  Later  the  children  learned 
to  know  well  the  gardens  it  enclosed,  and  also  the  taste  of 
the  wonderful  confections  the  sweet-faced  sisters  made. 
The  other  buildings  seemed  poor  and  small  in  comparison 
to  those,  with  the  exception  of  the  inn  which  rose  gloomily 
behind  them,  a  solitary  rush-light  burning  palely  in  the 
yawning  vestibule,  and  the  torches  tlaming  in  the  court- 
yard, wliore  benighted  travellers  were  loudly  bargaining 
for  lodgings,  —  no  hope  of  supper  presenting  itself  at  that 
late  hour. 

While  Rosario  and  Chata  were  noticing  these  things  with 
wide-open  eyes  but  with  ill  suppressed  yawns,  Don  Rafael 
and  Dona  Rita  were  roturning  the  salutations  of  the  con- 
course of  friends  who  had  come  to  meet  them ;  and  as 
soon  as  the  cnildren  had  been  embraced  in  succession  by 
each  aflfectionatc  cousin  or  punctilious  friend,  they  were 
hurried  across  the  plaza  upon  the  side  where  the  shadows 
lay  black  as  ink,  and  with  a  regretful  glance  at  the  seem- 
ing palaces  of  marble  that  rose  on  either  hand  were  con- 


given  1 
weddinj 
loft  to 
which  w 
debt  to 
advent 
most 


or  an  of 
known 
knew  t 
Tliero 
niother, 
was  a 


CJ/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


187 


ducted  with  much  kindly  liclp  and  cheerfulness  ovor  the 
rough  cobble-stones  along  a  narrow  street  of  single-storied 
houses,  above  the  walls  of  which,  as  if  piercing  the  roofs, 
rose  at  intervals  tall  slender  trees,  indicating  the  well- 
planted  courts  within.  Reaching  the  more  scattered 
portions  of  the  town  where  the  moonlight  shone  clear 
over  open  fields  and  walled  gardens  and  orchards,  with 
low  adobe  houses  scattered  among  them,  the}'  at  last 
entered,  somewhat  to  the  disappointment  of  Chata,  a 
rather  pretentious  house  which  fronted  directly  upon  the 
street.  She  was  consoled  upon  the  following  day  to  find 
a  garden  at  the  back,  where  a  triangle  of  pink  roses  of 
Castile,  larkspur,  and  red  geraniums  grew,  almost  choking 
with  their  luxuriance  the  beds  of  onions  and  chiles,  and 
rivalling  in  glory  of  color  the  "  manta  de  la  Virgin  "  or 
convolvulus,  which  entirely  covered  the  half-ruinous  stone- 
wall—  the  gaps  filled  with  tunas  and  magucys  —  which 
divided  the  cultivated  land  from  the  thickets  of  mesquite 
and  cactus  that  lay  beyond. 

In  the  garden  the  children  spent  many  hours  while  their 
mother  sat  chatting  at  the  side  of  the  invalid,  who  rallied 
wonderfull}'  as  she  heard  the  c.  "'ess  tales  of  her  daughter's 
prosperity ;  thougb.  like  many  another  nouveau  riche,  Dona 
Rita  had  her  fancied  self-denials  to  complain  of.  One  of 
the  clerks  at  the  hacienda  had  a  wife  whose  father  had 
given  her  a  string  of  pearls  as  large  as  cherries  upon  her 
wedding  day,  while  she  the  wife  of  the  administrador  was 
left  to  blush  over  the  shabby  necklace  —  not  a  bead  of 
which  was  bigger  than  a  pea  —  which  Rafael  had  gone  in 
debt  to  give  her  on  her  wedd.  ig  da}',  and  which  until  the 
advent  of  the  fortunate  Doiia  Gomesinda  she  had  thought 
most  beautiful ;  and  then  too  her  dearest  friend  had  a 
daughter  who  would  inherit  a  fine  house  of  three  rooms  or 
more  in  that  very  town,  and  money  and  jewels  fit  for  a 
hacendado's  daughter ;  and  it  was  quite  possible  that  she 
would  marry  — who  could  tell  ?  it  might  even  be  an  attorney 
or  an  official,  —  while  with  two  to  endow  (and  it  was  well 
known  that  Rafael  loved  to  enjoy  as  he  went),  Heaven  only 
knew  to  what  her  own  flesh  and  blood  were  doomed ! 
There  was  Rosario  for  example,  —  and  her  own  grand- 
mother, who  would  not  be  prejudiced,  could  judge  if  there 
was  a  prettier  or   more   daintily-bred   girl  in  the  whole 


\^ 


188 


CHATA   AND  CIJINITA. 


>;.((■  in 


B'     .M:'j' 


town,  —  what  chance  was  there  that  an  offlcei  or  an  attor- 
ney, or  indeed  any  one  but  a  clerk,  a  ranchero,  or'  a  poor 
shop-keeper,  should  pretend  to  their  alliance  when  they 
could  give  so  poor  a  dower  with  their  daughter?  Dona 
Rita's  e^^es  filled  with  tears,  and  decidedly  she  was  obliged 
to  compress  her  lips  very  tightly  to  prevent  herself  from 
uttering  further  complaint;  for  since  Rosario  had  with 
true  Mexican  precocity  burst  into  the  full  glory  of  young 
womanhood,  this  had  become  a  very  real  grievance  to  her 
mother,  but  one  of  which,  with  the  awe  of  the  promoted 
as  well  as  trained  daughter  and  wife,  she  had  seldoui 
ventured  to  hint  of  either  to  Dona  Feliz  or  Don  Rafael. 

As  Rosario  had  outgrown  her  sister  in  physique,  so  had 
she  also  in  womanly  dignity  and  apparent  force  of  intellect 
At  least  she  thought  of  matters,  and  even  to  her  admiring 
mother  and  female  relatives  began  to  give  weighty  opin- 
ions upon  affairs  which  either  wearied  Chata  or  interested 
her  little.  The  grandfather,  old  Don  Jose  Maria,  used  to 
sit  under  a  fig-tree  watching  with  disapproving  eyes  as 
Chata  darted  hither  and  thither  chasing  a  butterfly  or 
ruby-throated  humming-bird,  or  with  her  lap  full  of  flowers 
or  neglected  sewing  pored  over  some  entrancing  book 
lent  her  by  the  village  priest  ( he  was  a  man  whose  ideas, 
had  he  not  been  the  Santo  Padre,  would  have  been  the 
last  that  should  have  been  tolerated  in  the  bringing  up  of 
sedate  and  simple  maidens)  ;  and  those  same  ej'es  lighted 
with  pride  as  they  fell  on  Rosario,  beating  eggs  to  a  froth 
to  mix  with  honey  and  almonds  for  her  grandfather's 
delectation,  or  bending  over  a  brasier  of  ruddy  charcoal 
watching  anxiously  the  cooking  of  the  dulce^  of  which 
already  more  successes  than  failures  showed  her  a  born 
artist.  Then  again  sometimes,  when  Don  Jose  came  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening  from  the  plaza  where  he  had  been  to 
buy  his  jar  of  pulque  or  his  handful  of  garlic,  he  could  see 
his  favorite  sitting  demurely  in  the  upper  balcony  with 
her  head  bent  over  her  needle,  listening  it  is  true  to  that 
maldito  libro^  "  that  pernicious  book,"  which  Chata  was 
reading,  but  as  far  as  he  coiikl  see  doing  no  other  harm, 
unless  the  very  fact  of  a  young  and  prctt}'  girl  looking 
into  the  street  was  a  harm  in  itself,  —  but  Maria  Puris- 
simal  one  must  not  be  too  rigorous  with  one's  own  flesh 
and  blood :    like  others   before  Mm  and  more  who  will 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


189 


come  after,  Don  Jose  Maria  forgot  in  tenderness  to  the 
grandchildren  the  discipline  he  had  thought  absolutely 
necessary  with  the  preceding  generation. 

Chata,  too,  thought  it  delightful  to  sit  on  the  balcony 
and  peer  through  the  wooden  railing  at  the  long  stretch  of 
sand  which  led  far  away  where  the  houses  dwindled  into 
a  few  half-ruinous  hovels,  where  children  and  dogs  throve 
T'  -1  well  as  the  bristling  cacti.  On  Sunday  mornings  very 
early,  as  the  mother  and  daughters  came  from  Mass  along 
that  road,  they  used  to  be  covered  with  dust  thrown  up 
by  the  scores  of  plodding  donkeys  who  wended  their  way 
to  the  plaza  laden  with  charcoal  and  vegetables,  eggs  and 
screaming  fowls.  Dona  Rita  and  her  daughters  would 
cover  their  faces  with  their  rr'  osos,  and  trip  daintil}'  by, 
scarcely  appeased  by  the  admiring  salutations  and  apolo- 
gies of  the  drivers,  who  pulling  off  their  rough  straw  hats 
apostrophized  the  dust  and  the  scorching  sun  and  the 
clumsy  donkey,  "  by  your  license  be  the  name  spoken ! " 

Sometimes  more  distinguished  wayfarers  passed  over 
the  road  and  turned  into  the  inn,  or  rode  on  to  the 
barracks  which  lay  quite  at  the  opposite  extremity  of  the 
little  town ;  for  it  happened  that  a  company  of  soldiers 
were  quartered  there.  They  were  for  the  most  part  well 
clad  in  a  gay  uniform  of  red  and  blue,  and  every  man  had 
a  profusion  of  stripes  on  his  sleeves  or  lace  on  his  cap. 
No  one  knew  and  no  one  asked  whether  they  were  Mochos 
or  Puros,  Conservatives  or  Liberals,  —  for  the  nonce  they 
were  Ramirez's  men.  This  General  had  been  a  Liberal 
the  month  before,  and  was  suspected  of  favoring  the  clergy 
at  this  time.  Who  could  tell  ?  Who  knew  what  he  might 
be  on  the  morrow  ?  In  the  night  all  cats  are  gray ;  in  times 
of  perplexity  all  soldiers  are  patriots.  The  ragged  urchins 
of  El  Toro  threw  up  their  hats  for  the  soldiers  of  Ramirez, 
and  the  discreet  householders  leaned  from  their  balconies 
every  evening  to  hear  the  little  band  play,  and  to  exult 
for  a  brief  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  mild  excitement  in- 
separable from  a  garrison  town. 

Chata  and  Chinita  had  delighted  in  the  distant  music, 
and  had  caught  glimpses  of  the  soldiers,  as  disenchanting 
as  those  of  the  rude  grimy  structures  they  had  in  the 
moonlight  imagined  to  bo  marble  palaces ;  they  had 
gazed  up  and  down  the  dusty  street  and  watched  the 


71 


H 


irti 


wmm 


.mmi'mbm'.i  "■« 


Ml^. 


i'ii  II 


190 


CffATA   AND  CHINITA. 


\ 


noisy  ragged  urchins  play  "  Toro "  with  a  big-hornoi, 
long-haired,  decrepit  goat,  with  crowds  of  half*"  naked 
elfin-faced  girls  as  spectators,  until  they  were  actually 
beginning  to  weary  of  the  attractions  of  the  tcwn  and 
long  for  home,  —  when  one  day  the  beat  of  a  drum  was 
heard  and  a  squad  of  soldiers  went  filing  past,  T'ith  a 
young  olficer  riding  at  their  head,  who  threw  a  glance  so 
ku'ung  at  the  balcony  whore  the  young  girls  stood  that, 
whether  intended  to  reach  her  or  not,  it  pierced  the  heart 
of  Kosario  on  the  instant. 

Chata  had  also  noticed  the  young  officer  (a  slender  under- 
sized 3'oung  fellow,  with  a  swarthy  loan  face  and  keen  black 
eyes,  shaded  by  a  profusely  decorated  sombrero),  but  merely 
as  a  part  of  the  mimic  pageant,  —  a  prominent  part,  for  the 
trappings  of  his  horse,  as  well  as  his  own  dress,  ,•  jce 
covered  by  that  profusion  of  ornament  affected  by  gallants 
■whose  capital  was  invested  in  the  adornment  of  the  person 
with  which  they  hoped  to  conquer  fortune ;  for  in  those 
days  there  were  numberless  ro3'stering  adventurers,  who  to 
a  modicum  of  valor  united  a  vanity  and  assurance  which 
provided  maiiy  fl.  rich  girl  with  a  dashing  and  fickle  hus- 
band, aud  his  country  with  a  soldier  as  false  to  Mexico  as 
to  his  Oofia  Fulana. 

It  \'as  just  after  this  that  evening  after  evening  Ro- 
sario  would  lean  pensively  over  the  balcony  rail,  resist- 
ing Chata's  entreaties  to  come  to  the  garden  where  there 
was  no  dust  to  stifle  them,  and  where  the  dew  would  soon 
b  .gin  to  fall  upon  the  larkspurs  and  roses,  and  already 
the  wide  white  cups  of  the  gloria  mundo  were  beginning 
to  fill  with  perfume.  The  dew  vould  chill  her,  the  peifumo 
sicken  her,  Rosario  said.  Chata  remonstrated ;  Rosario 
smirked  and  smiled.  Chata  grew  vexed ;  she  thought  the 
smile  in  mockery  of  her.  She  need  not  have  lost  her  sweet 
temper,  —  Rosario  was  thinking  of  a  far  different  porson. 
The  young  captain  was  m  alking  slowly  down  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street ;  he  had  just  laid  his  hand  on  his  heart. 
It  was  on  him  Rosario  smiled. 

Dona  Rita,  discrcetest  of  mothors,  was  not  one  to  leave 
her  daughters  to  their  own  devices  unwatcbed.  It  was 
she  who  always  accompanied  them  in  their  walks  or  to 
Mass;  yet  curiously  enough  th(^  young  captain  found 
means  to  slip  a  tiny  note  into  Rosario's  ready  hand,  as 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


191 


she  knc'lt  on  the  grimy  stone  floor  of  the  church.  Ob- 
vlouslv,  Dona  Rita  could  not  be  in  two  phiccs  at  once, 
and  ajic  usually  knelt  behind  Chata,  who  needed  perhaps 
some  maternal  supervision  at  her  devotions ;  and  it  came 
about  that  the  space  behind  Kosario  was  occupied  by 
soiuo  stranger.  It  was  Don  Jose  Maria  v/ho  ilrst  notici'd 
tliat  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  that  stranger  grew  to  bo 
the  Captain  Don  Fernando  llui^:. ,  ..nd  quite  accidentally  it 
happened  that  thereafter  the  mother  and  daughters  went 
to  an  earlier  Mass.  Don  Jose  Maria  was  not  so  early  a 
riser  as  Don  Fernando  was ,  so  he  was  not  there,  while 
the  3'oung  soldier  was  in  his  usual  place. 

Chata  was  perhaps  a  stupid  little  creature,  —  Rosario 
it  is  quite  certain  would  never  have  done  such  a  silly 
thing;  but  one  day  when  Don  Fernando  had  pressed  a 
note  into  the  hand  which  was  nearest  to  him,  and  which 
i?i  jhe  confusion  of  dispersal  happened  to  be  that  of  the 
srualler  sister,  she  gave  it  in  some  indignation  to  her 
mother.  It  was  full  of  violent  protestations  of  a.Tection, 
and  entreated  the  life  of  his  life  to  give  her  lover  hope  ;  it 
was  signed  her  "  agonized  yet  adoring  Fernando." 

Dona  Rita  showed  herself  capable  of  great  self-control ; 
she  said  sadly  that  she  would  not  ask  which  had  been  guilty 
of  attractin  '  such  impassioned  admiration,  but  she  assured 
the  girls  sIj  was  heart-broken.  When  she  reached  the 
house,  after  !irst  carefuUy  closing  the  door  that  her  father 
might  not  hear,  she  rated  them  both  soundly.  Chata  did 
not  think  it  strange  th*^  v  should  both  be  thought  guilty ; 
she  assu'Tied  that  Ro£.irio  was  as  innocent  as  herself. 
Dona  Ritu,  giving  Rosario  the  note  to  read,  that  she  might 
learn  for  herself  the  daring  and  presumption  of  which  man 
is  capable,  forgot  in  her  indignation  to  reclaim  it.  An  hour 
afterward  Chata  saw  Rosario  read  it  over  in  secret,  and 
was  scandalized  to  see  her  kiss  it ;  and  late  that  daj',  as 
they  stood  as  usual  on  the  balcony  (the  little  mother,  as 
Chata  remarked,  was  so  forgiving!),  she  caught  Rosario's 
hand  spasmodically  as  Fernando  passed  by,  but  the  girl 
released  it  with  some  impatience  and  sl3'ly  kissed  the  tips 
of  her  fingers,  — and  Chata,  with  a  pang  of  awakening,  real- 
ized that  her  sister  hrd  not  been  and  was  not  so  innocent 
of  coquetry  as  she  had  assumed,  and  thenceforth  suffered 
indescribable  tortures  between  her  sense  of  loyalty  to  her 
sister  and  duty  to  her  mother. 


Ill: 


13 


■I 


I  i 


ii     * ' 


192 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


Rosario's  ideal  of  truth  was  in  accordance  wJth  that 
which  surrounded  her ;  to  be  silent  when  speech  was  un- 
desirable, to  equivocate  pleasani,ly  whore  plain  speakinjf 
would  be  harHli,  to  tell  a  lie  gracefully  where  truth  would 
offend,  —  this  was  her  natural  creed,  which  she  had  never 
questioned.  But  Chata,  unknown  to  herself,  had  never 
accepted  it;  her  soul  was  like  certain  nuiterial  obj((ct8 
which  resist  the  dyes  that  other  substances  at  once  absorb. 
It  was  not  enough  for  her  to  give  the  truth  when  it  was 
asked,  —  it  was  a  torture,  an  unnatural  crime,  to  her  to 
withhold  it.  She  would  not  indeed  have  done  so  in  this 
case,  had  not  Kosario  in  a  manner  put  her  upon  her  honor 
the  very  next  day. 

The  washerwoman  had  been  there,  and  Rosario,  who 
was  an  embryo  housewife,  had  been  deputed  to  attend 
her,  and  Chata,  who  had  gladly  escaped  the  duty,  ran  to 
the  bedroom  when  she  saw  the  servant  depart  to  congratu- 
late her  sister  on  the  dispatch  she  had  made  ;  when  Rosario 
dosing  the  door  ra3'steriously,  cried :  "  Look !  look  what 
he  has  sent  me !  Is  it  not  beautiful,  charming,  divine  ?  " 
and  she  held  up  to  the  light  her  hand,  on  the  first  finger  of 
which  glittered  a  ring. 

Truth  to  tell,  Chata  was  dazzled ;  at  that  moment  her 
own  insignificance  and  the  womanliness  and  beauty  of 
Rosario  were  more  than  ever  apparent.  She  gazed  at 
Rosario  with  greater  admiration  than  on  the  ring,  beautiful 
though  it  was.  Here  was  a  sister  just  her  own  age,  yet  a 
woman  with  an  actual  lover !     Oh  I 

"  What  will  our  mother  say  ?  "  she  begar  in  an  awed 
voice,  when  Rosario,  her  womanly  dignity  gone,  began  to 
spring  up  and  down,  screaming  yet  laughing,  "-4?/,  Dios 
mio  !  "  throwing  her  hand  over  her  shoulder  and  slipping  it 
into  the  loose  neck  of  her  dress.  "  Oh,  my  life !  the  crea- 
ture is  down  my  back !  it  is  crawling  now  on  my  shoulder ! 
No,  no,  grandfather,"  for  Don  Jos^  Maria  had  entered,  "  it 
is  Chata  who  will  help  me.  No,  my  mother !  Ay,  it  iy 
gone  now  !  I  would  not  have  you  frightened,  it  was  but 
one  of  those  bright  little  beetles  that  live  on  the  roses ;  " 
and  she  contemptuously  tossed  something  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  Chata  saw  with  speechless  wonder  that  the  ring 
which  had  been  on  her  finger  was  gone.  The  bauble 
at  least  had  slipped  into  a  secure  hiding-place,  and  Chata 


really 
cxistc 
Aj 
the  he 
whicii 
dull,  £ 
tiated 
make, 
by  the 
tuiSas 
root, 
who  se 
day,  ai 
peared 
suit  of 
his  moo 
and  mc 
leather, 
a  horse 
declared 
himself, 
Rosario 
Truth 
though  1 
had  spet 
was  natu 
ing  them 
rio  was, 
period  re 
present  i 
A  visic 
though 
her  gran( 
moving 
Rosario 
stealing 
that  her 
condolen 
Rosario's 
of  courts 
the  tragei 
of  the  pr< 


r 


ill!!!   ! 


th  that 
ras  un- 
>,eakin<; 

I  would 
[I  never 

II  never 
objects 
absorb. 

n  it  was 

0  her  to 
)  in  this 
er  honor 

rio,  -who 
;o  attend 
y,  ran  to 
congratu- 

1  Ilosario 
ook  what 
divine?" 

t  finger  of 

)ment  her 
beauty  of 
gazed  at 
,  beautiful 
age,  yet  a 


/ 


A 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


193 


really  oould  not  determine  whether  the  beetle  had  ever 
existed  or  no. 

A»  air  of  delightful  mysterj'  began  to  pervade  not  only 
the  house  but  the  quiet  street  all  the  way  from  the  plaza, 
which  Don  Fernando  Ruiz  crossed  at  intervals  in  the  long, 
dull,  sultry  days.  It  became  quite  a  diversion  to  the  ini- 
tiated to  watch  what  clever  turns  and  doublings  he  would 
make,  and  with  what  assumed  indifTcrcnce  he  would  linger 
by  the  fruit-stand  at  the  corner,  where  old  Antonina  sold 
tufias  or  a  few  poor  figs  and  lumps  of  roasted  cassava 
root.  She  made  quite  a  fortune  from  the  j'oung  captain, 
who  seemed  bent  on  dazzling  her  bleared  eyes ;  for  every 
day,  and  sometimes  three  or  four  times  in  a  day,  he  ap- 
peared resplendent  in  uniform  of  blue  ^  id  red,  or  a  riding 
suit  of  buckskin  embroidered  in  silver,  or  perhaps,  when 
his  mood  was  sombre,  in  black  hung  with  silver  buttons, 
and  more  than  once  in  a  suit  of  velvet  and  embossed 
leather,  with  buttons  of  gold  set  with  brilliants,  and  riding 
a  horse  with  accoutrements  so  splendid  that  Doila  Rita 
declared  he  must  be  as  rich  as  the  Marquis  of  Carabas 
himself,  and  without  any  apparent  consistency  embraced 
Rosario  with  tears. 

Truth  to  tell,  DoSa  Rita  was  a  match-maker  bom,  and 
though  her  talents  had  lain  dormant  during  the  years  she 
had  spent  at  the  hacienda,  they  had  not  declined ;  and  it 
was  natural  that  she  should  find  a  quiet  exultation  in  exert- 
ing them  in  favor  of  her  daughter,  for  young  though  Rosa- 
rio was,  her  precocity  and  the  custom  of  the  country  and 
period  rendered  it  perfectly  natural  that  marriage  should 
present  itself  in  her  immediate  future. 

A  vision  of  it  rose  before  the  impassioned  girl  Uke  a  star, 
though  there  was  a  period  of  clouds  and  mourning  when 
her  grandmother  died,  and  Chata,  sobbing  in  the  garden  or 
moving  sadly  about  the  darkened  rooms,  wondered  that 
Rosario  could  smile  over  those  pink  notes  she  was  always 
stealing  into  corners  to  pore  over.  During  the  nine  days 
that  her  mother  remained  within  doors  receiving  visits  of 
condolence,  the  notes  indeed  were  the  aliment  upon  which 
Rosario's  fancy  fed  ;  for  Dona  Rita,  though  the  little  drama 
of  courtship  had  undoubtedly  made  less  absorbing  to  her 
the  tragedy  of  illness  and  death,  was  too  strict  an  observer 
of  the  proprieties  to  allow  her  maternal  affection  to  betray 

13 


i 


}\ 


194 


C//ATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


;  \ 


F"""  I 


her  at  such  a  time  into  permitting  even  a  shutter  ti»  he  left 
njar,  or  to  suffer  her  daughter  to  approach  a  window  to 
satisfy  herself  by  a  momentary  peep  as  to  whctl'icr  the 
love-lorn  captain  was  on  his  accustomed  beat  or  no.  Jt 
was  a  time  however  when  without  offence  the  ^«^ericst 
stranger  might  leave  a  card  and  word  of  sympathy,  and 
this  ho  never  failed  to  do  from  day  to  day.  Dofia  Rita 
would  glance  at  the  bit  of  cardboard  with  an  affectation  of 
indifference,  but  it  would  always  shortly  disappear  from 
the  table,  and  with  the  cruel  sarcasm  of  childish  intoler- 
ance Chata  would  suggest  to  Rosario  its  suitability  for 
baking  the  little  puffs  of  sugar  and  almonds  upon,  which 
she  was  so  deft  at  compounding. 

At  last  the  novcna  of  grief  was  ended,  and  taking  her 
aged  father's  arm  Doila  Rita  dutifully  led  him  into  the 
street  to  breathe  the  air.  Rosario  knew  that  at  that  hour 
the  captain  was  on  duty  at  the  barracks,  but  nevertheless 
could  not  resist  the  opportunity  of  stepping  into  the  bal- 
cony and  gazing  upon  the  scene  from  which  she  had  been 
so  long  debarred.  A  neighbor  across  the  way  greeted  her 
with  a  significant  smile ;  and  somewhat  piqued,  Rosario 
drew  back,  half  closed  the  shutters  with  a  hesitating  hand, 
and  tlien  dropping  on  the  floor  in  the  long  ray  of  sunlight 
that  streamed  through  the  aperture,  set  herself  to  the  ever 
entrancing  task  of  re-reading  her  lover's  letters. 

As  she  sat  there  opening  them  one  by  one  and  after 
perusal  leaving  them  unfolded  in  her  lap,  she  became  so 
absorbed  that  she  did  not  notice  the  passage  of  time  until 
a  footstep  soimded  behind  her,  and  glancing  up  she  saw 
with  trepidation  that  her  grandfather  was  ushering  in  a  tall 
and  imposing  stranger,  whose  military  garb  made  her  heart 
beat  madly,  for  a  wild  thought  of  Fernando  Ruiz  flashed 
tlirough  her  mind.  Her  confusion  was  not  lessened  by 
perceiving  that  the  visitor  was  a  man  of  more  advanced 
age  and  infinitely  greater  assumption  of  rank.  The  tell- 
tale letters  were  in  her  lap,  though  involuntarily  she  had 
dropped  her  reboso  over  them  ;  but  she  dared  not  rise  lest 
they  should  drop  in  a  shower  around  her,  and  she  equally 
feared  the  anger  of  her  grandfather  and  the  condemnatory 
surprise  of  the  visitor. 

"  I  praj'^  you  enter  the  house,  Seiior !  Pass  in,  sir,  pass 
in !  "  she  heard  her  grandfather  say  in  his  smoothest  tones. 


If'; 


i 


C/fATA   AND   C/f/N/TA. 


105 


"  My  (/anghtcr  will  be  hero  almost  immediately  ;  but  she 
stopped  at  the  convent  for  a  moment  to  buy  a  blessed  can- 
dle t<>  |)laco  before  the  altar  of  Our  Lady  of  Succors.  Slio 
will  be  honored  indeed  by  this  visit.  Take  care,  Scfior,  the 
roora|i8  somewhat  dark,  but  I  will  open  a  shutter.  Val- 
(fume  JJios,  what  have  wo  here?"  as  he  caught  siglit  of 
the  bent  figure  sitting  in  the  narrow  streak  of  sunshine. 
'-''Caramba,  niiia^  rise!  rise,  I  say !  sccst  thou  not  the 
Sefior  General?" 

"  Ay,  but  I  have  the  cramp  in  my  poor  foot,  ray  grand- 
father," cried  Itosario  in  a  voice  of  lamentation,  vainly 
endeavoring  under  cover  of  the  reboso  to  make  some 
disposal  of  the  letters  which  rustled  aUirmingly.  "  iVb, 
Senorea,  by  Blessed  Mary  my  patroness,  let  mo  alone  1 " 
she  cried,  as  both  her  grandfather  and  the  stranger 
attempted  to  help  her,  —  the  latter  with  a  faint  gleam  of 
amusement  in  his  eyes,  the  former  with  genuine  consterna- 
tion depicted  on  his  face.  "  Ay,  Chata,"  for  by  this  time 
her  sister  had  appeared.  "  Oh,  but  my  back  is  broken  I  it 
is  worse  than  when  you  struck  me  with  the  stick  when  you 
were  trying  to  knock  the  peaches  from  the  tree.  Oh  I  ah ! 
no,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  rise ! " 

In  dire  affright  Chata  knelt  before  her.  "  Oh,  what 
shall  I  do  ?  "  she  cried,  in  remorse  at  the  remembrance  of 
an  escapade  that  had  been  almost  forgotten,  and  in  sud- 
den fear  that  it  might  have  been  the  cause  of  her  sister's 
present  distress.  "Oh,  my  life!  I  thought  it  was  your 
poor  foot !  "  and  she  began  rubbing  one  small  slippered 
member,  while  Rosario  eagerly  whispered,  "  Stupid  one, 
hide  me  these  letters  ! "  and  the  mystified  Chata  felt  her 
sister's  hand  with  a  mass  of  fluttering  papers  thrust  under 
her  arm,  covered  with  the  ever  useful  reboso. 

Involuntarily  the  hapless  confidant  pressed  them  to  her 
side,  and  at  the  same  moment  Rosario  limped  from  the 
room,  inwardl}'  raging  at  making  so  poor  a  figure  before 
the  General,  while  Chata,  standing  for  a  moment  abashed, 
was  about  to  follow,  when  a  voice  which  bewildered  her  by 
its  strange  yet  familiar  accent  said  gayly,  "  And  you,  my 
fair  Seiiorita.  have  you  never  a  twinge  of  the  same  dis- 
order that  afflicts  your  sister?"  and  he  glanced  meaningly 
at  a  pink  envelope,  which  had  fallen  at  her  feet,  —  at  the 
same  time  covering  it  with  his  foot  that  it  might  not  attract 


i 


*iii 


rt 


:^"!  '.  f: 


196 


C/IATA   AND  CHINITA. 


\ 


the  suspicions  ej'C  of  the  old  man,  who  with  profuse  apolo- 
gies for  the  informality  of  the  reception  v;as  assuring  the 
visitor  that  until  that  moment  never  had  there  boon  a 
healthier  damsel  than  his  granddaughter  Rosario,  adding 
with  a  sigh,  "But  the  Devil  robs  with  one  hancij  and 
pinches  with  the  other." 

Chata  trembled  and  blushed  painfully  as  she  raised  her 
eyes  timidly  to  the  General's,  while  with  a  senb3  of  the 
grotesque  she  was  conscious  of  wondering  whether  ho, 
like  herself,  was  thinking  her  grandfather  had  suggested 
no  complimentary  agency  in  her  grandmother's  removal  to 
another  sphere.  But  at  the  instant  all  present  perplexities 
vanished  in  the  surprise  with  which  she  recognized  the 
face  which  she  had  seen  but  for  a  few  brief  hours  years 
before,  —  the  face  of  the  man  of  whom  Chinita  had  never 
grown  weary  of  talking.  "  The  Seiior  General  Ramirez," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice,  with  some  awe.  She  was  more 
than  ever  bewildered  by  the  look  he  had  fixed  upon  her. 
She  shrank  back,  barely  dropping  her  hand  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  that  he  extended  t/)ward  her.  She  was 
actually  inclined  to  be  frightened,  his  eyes  were  so  bril- 
liant, his  smile  so  eager.  The  foolish  thought  struck 
her  thit  had  not  her  grandfather  bv^en  there,  this  strange 
imperious  man  would  surely  havo  taken  her  in  his 
arms,  would  have  kissed  her  I  She  hurried  from  the 
room  to  find  Rosario  waiting  for  her  at  the  end  of 
the  corridor,  alternately  smothering  her  laughter  in  the 
folds  of  her  dress,  and  angrily  chafing  at  her  sister's 
delay. 

"  Your  horrid  letters !  "  cried  Chata,  thrusting  them 
into  her  hands.  "  Here,  take  them,  read  them,  laugh  over 
tliem  or  cry,  or  kiss  them  if  you  will !  I  hope  I  shall  never 
see  a  love-letter  again  in  my  life.  He  saw  them,  —  the 
Sefior  (reneral.     I  know  he  did.     Oh,  what  shame !  " 

"  Pshaw !  "  interrupted  Rosario.  "  What  does  it  mat- 
ter? He  will  think  none  the  worse  of  me.  Without 
doubt  he  is  come  on  the  part  of  Fernando  to  ask  for  me. 
How  proud  and  happy  my  mother  will  be,  and  how  she 
will  rail  at  me !  It  will  not  be  difficult  for  me  to  cry  as 
I  ought,  for  I  a,m  mad  with  vexation  to  have  appeared 
such  a  fool  when  I  should  have  been  so  dignified.  Why, 
the  Senor  will  think  me  a  child  still !    Does  he  not  look  like 


sorat 
seen 

Gene 

"Wl 

Rami 
from 
and  fl 
have  I 
is  my 
comes 
her  sis 
"yom 
sighed 
Chata 
would 
with  th 
clble  Iv 
Like' 
It  had  1 
She  dre 
she  woi 
cross,  a 
left  her. 
of  the  fl( 
soothec 
alone,  y 
garden, 
slie  stop^ 
slie  heai" 
ftom  the 
iinnatura 
seemed  t 
of  the 
innocenc 
There 
liouse.    (_ 
^vhich  ho 
ill  the  gl( 
tlisturbect 
indistinct 


I 


) 


CHATA  AND   CHINI.  A. 


197 


■  I  1 


3C  apolo- 
ari'ng  the 
e  b'^cn  a 
3,  adding 
landj  and 

raised  her 
ib3  of  the 
lether  he, 
suggested 
removal  to 
erplexities 
ynized  the 
ours  years 
had  never 
Ramirez," 
vras  more 
I  upon  her. 
for  a  mo- 
She   was 
ere  so  bril- 
ight  struck 
this  strange 
her   in  his 
id  from  the 
,he   end  of 
;hter  in  the 
her  sister's 


And  yet  we  can  never  havo 


some  bne  we  know,  Chata? 
seen  him  before." 

'-  fes,"  returned  Chata,  "  we  have  seen  him.  He  is  the 
General  Jos^  Ramirez." 

'■'Ah,  my  heart!"  ejaculated  Rosario,  dramatically. 
"What  a  misfortune!  My  father  hates  the  General 
Ramirez  because  he  once  had  some  horses  driven  awuy 
from  the  hacienda ;  and  besides  he  is  a  good  Christian 
and  fights  for  the  Church!  Aj',  unlucky  Fernando,  to 
have  chosen  such  a  messenger!  But  thank  Heaven,  it 
is  my  mother  who  will  first  hear  him !  Ah,  there  she 
comes ! "  and  in  irrepressible  excitement  Rosario  grasped 
her  sister's  hand.  "  Oh,  child ! "  she  added  sentimentally, 
"  3'^ou  too  may  be  asked  in  marriage  some  day  !  "  and  she 
sighed  with  an  air  of  vastly  superior  experience,  while 
Chata  revolved  in  her  mind  what  her  playfellow  Chinita 
would  say  when  she  told  her  of  this  unexpected  meeting 
with  the  hero  whom  she  fancied  she  had  rendered  invin- 
cible by  the  gift  of  the  amulet. 

Like  most  children  of  her  country  Chata  wore  a  scapularj^ 
It  had  lain  upon  her  breast  ever  since  she  could  remember. 
She  drew  it  out  and  looked  at  it.  Some  day  she  thought 
she  would  open  it ;  now  she  only  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  as  she  replaced  it.  Rosario  in  nervous  um'est  had 
left  her.  The  cool  of  the  evening  had  come ;  the  perfume 
of  the  flowers  stole  in  at  the  open  window,  and  the  breeze 
soothed  the  unusual  agitation  of  her  mind.  Glad  to  be 
alone,  yet  anxious  and  perplexed,  she  stepped  into  the 
garden.  More  than  once  as  she  walked  down  the  alley 
she  stopped,  her  h(mrt  palpitating  violently.  She  fancied 
she  heard  her  name  called,  or  that  Ramirez  would  step 
from  the  shadow  of  a  tree  to  encounter  her.  It  was  an 
unnatural  and  unchildlike  mood  quite  now  to  her.  It 
seemed  to  hor  that  Jier  grandfather's  unnecessary  mention 
of  the  Devil's  name  might  have  incited  that  enemy  of 
innocence  to  annoy  her,  and  she  whispered  an  Ave. 

There  was  a  large  cluster  of  bananas  just  behind  the 
house.  Chata  sat  down  there  to  watch  the  fantastic  clouds 
which  hovered  where  tho  sun  had  set.  In  her  absorption 
ill  the  glo^'ing  scene  she  was  unconscious  that  any  sound 
tlisturbeu  the  silence  around  her.  It  was  indeed  but  a  low 
indistinct  hum,   scarcely   recognizable  as  the   sound  of 


:iili| 


***> 


'•*M 


>; 


108 


CHATA   AND  C/fimTA. 


\ 


Immun  voices.  HjuI  slic  noticed  tlicni,  elio  would  have 
ronunubcrod  that  she  wasH  willi'm  a  foot  or  two  of  a  window 
wliicli  w.'iH  Hcroenod  IVoui  Hi«;lit  by  the  Iblia^o,  and  would 
luive  willidrawn  IVoni  ixwsiblo  tliscovery ;  but  as  it  was, 
she  remained  there  an  unconsciouM  troai)asHer.  The  llrHt 
distinct  sound  that  reached  her  ear  at  once  startled  and 
impressed  her,  Cor  it  was  the  tleej)  voice  of  Kaniirez  utter- 
ing her  own  name. 

"  Chata,  yes  it  was  Chata  \  said,"  he  alllrmed  dictatori- 
ally.  *'  Why  attempt  dissimulation  with  you,  Senora?  1 
am  in  no  humor  for  trilling.  Will  Dofia  Isabel  provide  a 
dowry  for  your  daughter?  It  is  my  fan(!y  that  \\  \\a  should 
marry  the  little  one,  and  I  can  nuike  or  mar  him.  So  far 
the  boy  has  blundered,  but  if  he  once  turns  his  eyes  on 
the  pretty  face  of  Chata,  he  will  not  lind  the  mistake 
irremediable  " 

Chata  C(v  1  not  credit  the  evidence  of  her  senses,  and 
remained  as  if  rooted  to  the  spot.  She  presently  heard 
her  mother  sobbing:  "This  is  an  unheard  of  thing  I  A 
young  man  pays  court  to  one  child,  —  perhaps  she  is  not 
insensible  to  his  advances.  —  and  his  patron  comes  to  me 
to  bid  me  give  him  another,  whom  he  has  not  perhaps  even 
glanced  at.     Oh,  it  is  too  much  !  too  nuich  !  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,"  said  Ramirez,  coldly,  "  that 
Kuiz  is  poor.  His  father  was  my  father's  servant,  and  is 
mine  ;  more;  than  once  he  has  s<ived  my  life  at  the  risk  of 
his  own.  Years  ago  he  rendered  mc  a  service  that  I  swore 
to  I'epay  in  a  certain  manner.  More  than  once  of  late  I 
have  been  reminded  of  my  promise,  and  the  marriage  of 
Fernando  with  your  daughter  would  render  its  fulfilment 
impossible." 

''1^3"  my  patron  saint!"  cried  Dona  Rita,  "it  is 
stiange  indeed  that  a  poor  little  country  girl  should  inter- 
fere with  the  projects  of  a  man  as  great  as  yourself.  But 
even  if  that  is  possible,  why  bid  mc  give  him  Chata?"  — 
adding  with  asperity,  "have  1  not  done  enough?  No, 
no  !  1  will  not,  I  cannot  make  m}'  Rosario  a  sacrifice  !  " 

"  Caramhaf"  cried  Ramirez,  laughing,  "  is  it  so  dread- 
ful a  thing  that  she  should  wait  until  the  next  lover  comes, 
—  he  will  be  sure  to  come,  Senora,  — and  that  she  should 
have  a  doublo  dower  to  make  her  fairer  in  his  eyes?  for  I 
tell  you  Ruiz  will  ask  no  dowry  from  you  with  the  little 


one. 

and 

yourf 

a  cut 

Ah,  i 

the  ol 

"^ 

a  voi(3 

to  mo 

you,  s 

Hh(!   ul 

from  I 
ibr  br( 
towani 
cntly  t 
she  re{ 
herself 
Thougj 


/ 


C If  ATA   AND   CIlfNITA. 


199 


one.  Come,  come,  Sefiora,  I  am  not  used  to  reasoning 
und  pleading,  yet  I  am  not  cruel.  The  child  has  been 
yourH  too  long  for  me  to  tear  her  from  your  arms.  It  was 
a  cunning  device  of  Dofia  iHahel  to  hide  her  from  me. 
Ah,  it  is  not  the  (Irst  trick  she  has  served  me,  and,  like 
the  otiiers,  she  will  find  it  turn  to  my  advantage  !  " 

"As  Heaven  is  my  witness,"  ejaculaUid  Dona  Rita,  in 
a  voice  of  intense  impulse  and  fear,  "  never  have  I  hntalhed 
to  mortal  the  secret  which  you  seem  to  know  !  Who  arc 
you,  sir  ?  What  have  you  to  do  with  the  child  ?  "  Suddenly, 
she  uttered  a  horrified  shriek.  Chata,  who  had  started 
IVom  her  seat  v/itli  dilated  eyes  and  li[)S  parted,  gasping 
for  breath,  heard  her  mother  si)ring  to  her  f(iet,  and  rush 
toward  the  door ;  heard  also  Ramire/.  follow  her  and  apjiar- 
cntly  draw  her  back,  remonstrating  in  low  tones.  Then 
she  realized  no  more.  Perhaps  she  fainted,  though  to 
herself  there  appeared  no  interru[)tion  of  consciousness. 
Though  she  did  not  notice  the  stars  come  out,  she  bciheld 
them  at  last  looking  down  upon  her,  as  if  they  heard 
the  questions  that  were  repeating  themselves  again  and 
again  in  her  mind.  Whose  child  was  she ;  who  was  the 
man  who  claimed  the  right  to  shape  her  destiny?  That 
she  was  not  the  child  of  Rafael  Sanchez  and  his  wife  she 
felt  certain.     Dona  Rita  had  not  denied  the  insinuation. 

The  child  —  all  childish  thoughts  suddenly  crushed 
by  the  overwhelming  revelation  she  had  surprised — re- 
mained in  the  same  spot,  unconscious  of  the  i)assagc  of 
time,  until  she  heard  her  sister  —  no,  Rosario  —  calling 
her  in  anxious  yet  irritated  tones:  "Where  art  thou, 
Chata?  Chata,  the  supper  is  ready;  the  grandfather  is 
angry  that  thou  art  so  long  in  the  garden  I  Oh,  hero 
thou  art ! " 

The  two  girls  encountered  each  other  in  the  dusk. 
Rosario  threw  her  arms  around  the  truant.  "  How  cold 
thou  art !  "  she  said.  "  Hast  thou  seen  a  ghost  here 
alone?  Bless  me  I  one  would  think  the  General  Ramirez 
had  brought  the  plague  with  him.  My  mother  has  shut 
herself  up,  and  when  I  went  to  her  door  to  beg  her  to  tell 
me  whether  she  was  ill,  she  answered  me,  'The  world 
is  all  ill.  Go  dress  saints,  my  child,  it  is  all  that  is  left 
to  thee  ! '  What  could  she  have  meant?  Can  it  be  after 
all  that  the  General  did  not  come  from  Fernando?  " 


200 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA, 


\ 


i.t  ,1 


Bosario  stopped  to  wipe  a  tear  from  the  comers,  of  her 
eyes.  Evidently  she  was  more  perplexed  than  disnpayed. 
She  was  too  young  to  fear  the  mischances  and  mishaps  of 
love.  Her  words  recalled  to  Chata's  mind  the  fate  that 
was  decreed  to  her,  —  to  which  she  had  given  no  second 
thought,  in  her  discovery  that  she  was  not  the  child  of 
those  she  called  father  and  mother.  Friendless,  homeless, 
nameless,  — yes,  she  reflected  bitterly,  that  she  had  never 
been  known  by  a  Christian  name,  — she  felt  as  though  the 
solid  earth  had  opened  beneath  her,  and  she  was  clinging 
desperately  to  some  tiny  twig  or  bough  to  prevent  herself 
from  being  engulfed  forever.  She  clung  hysterically  to 
Bosario,  who  had  begun  to  laugh  nervously.  And  so  old 
Don  Jos4  Maria  found  them,  and  querulously  bade  them 
go  into  the  house ;  nothing  but  ill  fortune  would  befall 
maidens  who  wandered  alone  in  the  dark ;  did  they  not 
know  that  the  Devil  stood  always  at  the  elbow  of  a 
woman  after  the  sun  set?  With  which  second-hand  and 
scurrilous  wisdom  the  old  philosopher  ushered  them  into 
the  dimly  lighted  dining-room.  Dona  Bita  was  there, 
and  as  the  girls  entered  lifted  her  eyes,  which  were  heavy 
with  weeping,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  Chata  saw 
in  them  aversion,  —  yes,  actual  fear  and  dislike. 

The  child  sighed  deeply,  and  sat  down  at  a  shaded 
corner.  No  one  noticed  that  she  ate  nothing.  The  old 
man  was  sleepy.  Dona  Bita  was  occupied  with  Bosario, 
who  grew  more  and  more  depressed.  From  her  mother's 
very  kindness  her  daughter  foreboded  little  good  from  the 
tidings  she  could  give  her. 


i  '■'[ 


of  her 
jayed. 
ips  of 
e  that 
}econd 
lild  of 
neless, 
I  never 
igh  the 
Unging 
herself 
lally  to 
I  so  old 
e  them 
I  befall 
hey  not 
w  of  a 
and  and 
em  into 
s  there, 
re  heavy 
lata  saw 


xxrv. 

For  many  succeeding  days  Chata  seemed  to  herself  to 
be  struggling  to  awaken  from  a  torturing  dream.  The 
household  was  very  quiet.  Dofia  Rita  and  Rosario  went 
gloomily  to  work  to  set  the  house  in  order  and  prepare 
for  departure ;  they  talked  together  in  low  tones,  and 
sometimes  one  or  the  other  would  sigh  in  echo  to  poor  old 
Don  Jos^  Maria,  who  was  contemplating  a  lonely  widow- 
hood, though  a  kindly  cousin  had  consented  to  take 
charge  of  his  domestic  affairs,  —  a  kindness  which  was 
taken  exceedingly  ill  bj'  the  two  elderly  servants.  It  was 
natural  enough  that  the  atmosphere  around  her  should 
be  charged  with  gloom,  and  as  natural  that  to  Chata 
it  should  seem  a  part  of  the  evil  dream  from  which  she 
longed  to  emerge.  At  times  she  thought  desperately  that 
she  would  rush  to  Dona  Rita  and  beg  her  to  tell  her  all ; 
but  she  shrank  from  dispelling  the  illusion  of  her  life, 
from  losing  the  father  and  mother  whom  she  had  believed 
her  own.  Her  father !  —  was  it  possible  he  could  be  other 
than  Don  Rafael?  No,  no,  nol  she  loved  him,  he  loved 
her ;  he  was  her  own,  her  very  own,  — even  Rosario  did 
not  love  and  cling  to  him  as  she  did.  And  if  by  word  or 
deed  he  was  deposed  from  that  relationship  who  would 
take  his  place? 

The  unhappy  girl  shuddered  from  head  to  foot ;  her  very 
heart  seemed  to  become  ice.  Who,  if  all  she  had  heard 
was  true,  could  be  her  father  but  this  man,  General  Jose 
Ramirez,  —  the  bloody  guerilla,  the  unscrupulous  robber? 
He  had  not,  it  was  true,  declared  so  in  as  many  words ; 
it  would  kill  her  to  hear  them  —  she  would  not  hear  them. 
And  so  in  a  sort  of  dumb  frenzy  she  resisted  the  tempta- 
tion to  disclose  what  she  had  heard ;  and  with  a  miserable 
conviction  that  she  was  the  object  of  suspicion  and  dislike, 
and  feeling  herself  a  hypocrite  and  impostor,  she  lived 
from  day  to  day,  nursing  in  her  heart  such  repressed 


n 


ii-  ?' 


202 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


W: 


':■! 


misery  as  perhaps  only  a  sensitive  and  uncompr<;hendcd 
cliild  can  feel. 

Chata  was  at  the  point  in  life  where  the  intuitions  of 
womanhood  begin  to  encroach  upon  the  credulity  and 
frankness  of  immaturity.  A  year  earlier  it  is  likely  she 
would  have  gone  to  Rosario  at  once  with  her  surprising 
discovery  ;  but  now  she  unconsciously  felt  that  she  was  — 
however  unwillingly  —  her  rival.  She  needed  no  instruc- 
tion by  word  or  experience  to  tell  her  that  Rosario  would 
feel  no  sympathy  with  the  stranger  who  had  shared  as  r, 
sister  in  the  love  of  father,  mother,  and  friends,  and  who 
it  was  purposed  should  be  given  to  the  man  whom  she 
had  herself  won.  Strangely  enough  the  remembrance  of 
this  only  occurred  to  Chata  at  intervals,  and  simply'  in  con- 
nection with  Rosario.  Her  mind  was  so  engrossed  by  the 
sense  of  desolation  and  the  agonizing  fd*^  of  the  General 
Ramirez,  that  the  thought  of  Ruiz  seldom  presented  itself 
to  her ;  and  the  possibility  of  his  being  in  any  way  made 
to  affect  her  life  seemed  so  absolutely  incredible  that  even 
the  sight  of  him  brought  no  blush  to  her  check  nor  a  thrill 
of  interest;  either  of  dislike  or  latent  kindness,  to  her 
bosom. 

Th )  bewildered  and  suffering  girl  did  not  realize  that 
there  was  any  change  in  her  manner.  Sometimes  she 
wondered  that  she  could  sleep  all  night,  that  she  could 
laugh,  3'es  even  talk,  so  wildly  at  times  that  Don  Joso 
Maria  sniffed  impatiently,  and  muttered  that  it  was  hard 
an  old  man  could  not  take  his  sorrow  in  quiet,  —  as  if  it 
was  some  sort  of  soothing  potion,  which  to  bo  healthful 
must  be  lingered  over.  But  the  truth  was  that  the  dull, 
heavy,  unrefreshing  sleep  which  came  to  the  child  took 
the  place  of  food  to  her,  besides  following  naturally  upon 
the  physical  exhaustion  consequent  on  incessant  thought 
and  movement ;  her  sharp,  penetrating  laugh  and  inconse- 
quent babble  were  the  outbursts  of  mental  excitement 
that  otherwise  must  have  found  vent  in  passionate  cries 
and  tears. 

Chata,  it  is  true,  had  suddenly  become  invested  with  a 
new  interest  to  Dona  Rita,  who,  while  events  flowed 
smoothly  on,  accepted  without  question  the  prevailing 
opinions  and  sentiments  of  those  surrounding  her.  She 
had  honestly  thought  she  loved  her  foster  daughter  as  her 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


203 


own,  and  that  her  welfare  was  as  dear  to  her  as  that  of 
her  own  child ;  but  now,  without  reasoning  on  the  matter, 
without  a  throb  of  anguish  in  contemplating  the  fate  whicli 
Ramirez  might  will  for  her,  she  saw  in  the  girl  but  a 
rival  who,  once  knowing  them,  might  well  approve  and 
glory  in  the  designs  that  threatened  the  pride  and  affec- 
tions of  Rosario. 

Dona  Rita  dared  not  repeat  to  her  daughter  the  sub- 
stance of  her  interview  with  Ramirez ;  and  even  had  she 
been  at  liberty  to  do  so,  her  satisfaction  in  being  the 
possessor  of  an  actual  secret  would  have  led  her  to  as- 
sume, as  she  did  now,  mild  airs  of  superior  wisdom, — 
which  were  perhaps  as  effectual  as  words  could  have  been 
in  assuring  Rosario  that  the  opposition  which  the  General 
Ramirez  had  urged  against  his  subaltern's  engagement  was 
more  serious  than  the  ordinary  interest  of  a  patron  would 
have  induced  him  to  make ;  and  for  a  week  or  more  her 
affectations  of  despair,  her  abundant  tears  and  hopeless 
sighs,  were  sufficient  to  justify  her  mother's  exaggerated 
tenderness,  —  a  tenderness  which  Chata  contrasted  bit- 
terly with  the  indifference  that  permitted  her  own  suffer- 
ing to  pass  unnoticed. 

The  secret  fear  of  Chata's  heart  was  that  she  might 
meet  Ramirez,  might  even  be  called  upon  to  speak  with  him. 
The  thought  of  either  filled  her  with  a  frenzy  of  dread. 
Had  it  been  possible  she  would  have  fled  from  the  town. 
Oh,  if  she  could  but  have  hoped  to  find  her  way  to  the 
hacienda  alone,  even  though  she  dared  not  make  herself 
known  to  Dona  Feliz  and  the  administrador !  Oh,  was 
it  possible  that  tliey  could  be  cold,  suspicious,  as  Doiia 
Rita  was  ?  The  thought  was  an  impiety,  yet  it  returned  to 
her  again  and  again,  and  her  dread  of  meeting  Don  Rafael 
became  —  from  vastly  differing  co'^ses — almost  as  strong 
as  tliat  with  which  she  imagined  herself  enduring  the 
mocking  and  triumphant  scrutiny  of  Ramirez.  In  her 
desolation  the  memory  of  Chinita  rose  before  her.  Oh, 
to  steal  with  her  into  tlie  hut  and  lean  her  head  upon  the 
breast  of  that  poor  waif,  who  must  in  her  woman's  con- 
sciousness be  feeling  something  of  the  misery  that  day 
by  day  was  becoming  more  agonizing  and  unendurable  to 
Chata  I  The  similarity  of  lot  so  unexpectedly  revealed 
to  her  seemed  to  explain  the  irresistible  attraction  which 


•!»4 


••i 


ill 

.  :f  it 


I  , ;: ! 


204 


CffATA   AND   CHINITA. 


i:>:'i 


■< 


t.h        ¥ 


i  --A 


W''       -i^r'a 


tho  foundliniT  —  who  had  apparently  been  so  far  ro- 
moved  from  her  by  caste  and  circumstance  —  had  o.lways 
possessed  for  her.  At  the  thought,  a  tint  of  crimson 
suffused  her  neck  and  face.  How  could  she  know  but 
that  in  the  obscurity  of  Chinita's  life  as  the  adopted  child 
of  a  iDOor  gate-keeper,  even  the  foundling  had  perhaps 
less  to  blush  for  than  the  supposed  daughter  of  the 
administrador? 

Doiia  Rita  had  talked  much  during  the  early  part  of 
her  visit  of  the  family  affairs  of  the  important  personages 
whom  her  husband  served.  Chata  had  heard  the  talk 
with  more  entertainment  than  interest ;  but  she  was  of  a 
reflecting  and  acute  mind,  and  she  began  now  to  weave 
theories  tind  form  conclusions  which  sometimes  startled, 
sometimes  horrified  her.  Had  she  but  caught  the  name 
that  had  brought  the  shriek  from  DoSa  Rita's  lips  the  even- 
ing the  General  Ramirez  had  talked  with  her !  But  with- 
out that  clew  her  speculations  were  idle,  and  she  tortured 
herself  in  vain,  yet  with  unconscious  dissimulation  hid  her 
wild  and  bitter  thoughts  beneath  an  exterior  that  to  the 
ordinary  observer  appeared  one  of  thoughtless  rather  than 
feigned  and  hysterical  levity. 

In  the  fear  of  meeting  the  General  —  though  the  temp- 
tation often  came  upon  her  to  fly  from  the  house  lest  he 
might  enter  it  —  Chata  avoided  going  into  the  streets,  and 
but  that  she  feared  it  might  prove  a  deadly  sin  she  would 
even  have  made  an  excuse  of  illness  to  remain  from  Mass. 
But  this  might  not  be,  though  no  temptation  of  a  week-day 
feast  would  draw  her  forth.  And  thus  it  happened  that 
she  and  Dona  Rita  were  alone  when  the  General  Ramirez 
for  the  second  time  visited  the  house. 

Rosario  by  chance  had  accompanied  her  grandfather  on 
a  visit.  She  had  gone  in  the  best  of  spirit  ;  for  she  had 
shown  Chata  a  note  from  Ruiz,  in  which  he  declared  that 
though  forbidden  to  ask  for  her  until  in  the  course  of  the 
revolution  he  had  acquired  a  competency,  or  her  father 
should  lose  his  unjust  prejudices  against  the  Church  party, 
he  should  ever  remain  true  to  her,  and  should  live  only  in 
the  hope  of  calling  her  his  own.  For  the  f  rst  time  Chata 
had  embraced  Rosario  with  a  genuine  sympathy  with  this 
love  which  seemed  so  true  and  yet  so  hopeless,  and  had 
watched  her  turn  the  corner  leading  to  the  plaza,  when 


she  wf 
actual 
had  lo 
rious  k 
saw  the 
the  soij 
street  j 
tion. 
thought 
the  win 
peted  fl 
hind  a 
for  proti 
yant  can 
in  the  nc 
speedy  c 
tht^y     01 
hearing, 
no  voice 
whose  ac 
her  desol; 
As  the 
sive,  and 
distractec 
gether,  a 
came  hei 
Aw8  and 
her  face, 
rending  s 
Her  pa 
Revere, 
bang  of  a 
Was  it  fai 
was  an  u 
What  had 
Had  the 
were    too 
than  natm 
tily  rose, 
stepping  1 
with  DoSa 
"  Ah,  y< 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


205 


r  ro- 
ways 
mson 
7  but 
chiUl 
rhaps 
►f  the 

art  of 
)uage3 
e  talk 
,9  of  a 
weave 
tartld, 
5  name 
e  even- 
it  with- 
ortured 
hid  her 
i  to  the 
ler  than 

le  temp- 

le8t  he 

sets,  and 

le  would 

_  Mass. 

eek-day 

led  that 

1  Ramirez 


she  was  suddenly  aroused  from  a  melancholy — which  was 
actual  repose  compared  to  the  state  of  excitement  that 
had  long  possessed  her  —  by  the  sound  of  a  quick,  impe- 
rious knock  upon  the  street  door ;  and  glancing  down,  she 
saw  the  General  Ramirez  impatiently  flicking  his  boot  with 
the  small  cane  he  carried,  and  glancing  up  and  down  the 
street  as  if  suspicious  rather  tht '  desirous  of  observa- 
tion. He  had  not  seen  her  she  was  sure.  Quick  as 
thought  she  ran  through  the  room,  and  passing  through 
the  window  pushed  open  a  door  which  led  to  the  para- 
peted flat  roof  of  the  back  buUding,  and  crouching  be- 
hind a  low  brick  wall  prayed  breathlessly  to  the  Virgin 
for  protection.  It  was  a  solitary  place,  where  only  a  ser- 
vant came  sometimes  to  place  a  tub  of  water  to  be  heated 
in  the  noonday  sun,  or  to  hang  some  household  article  for 
speedy  drying.  It  was  not  likely,  even  were  she  wanted, 
they  ould  think  to  look  for  her  there.  She  was  out  of 
hearing,  away  from  all  the  ordinary  sounds  of  the  house ; 
no  voice  could  reach  her  there,  —  not  even  that  voice 
whose  accents  she  could  never  forget,  which  had  made 
her  desolate. 

As  the  time  passed  or/  and  the  stillness  grew  oppres- 
sive, and  the  sunbeams,  which  had  at  first  annoyed  and 
distracted  her,  stole  to  the  wall  and  at  last  receded  alto- 
gether, a  sense  of  bitter  forlornness  and  weariness  over- 
came her;  and  ceasing  from  the  vain  repetitions  of 
Aves  and  Pater  nosters^  Chata  clasped  her  hands  over 
her  face,  and  resting  it  upon  her  knees  burst  into  heart- 
rending sobs. 

Her  passion  did  not  continue  long ;  it  was  perhaps  too 
severe.  It  was  arrested  as  by  a  blow,  —  by  the  sudden 
bang  of  a  heavy  door.  She  lifted  her  head  and  listened. 
Was  it  fancy,  or  did  she  hear  the  rattle  of  musketry  ?  It 
was  an  unfamiliar  sound,  and  yet  she  recognized  it. 
What  had  happened?  Was  an  enemy  entering  the  town? 
Had  the  garrison  revolted?  Accounts  of  such  events 
were  too  frequent  to  make  these  conjectures  other 
than  natural  even  to  Chata's  unwarlike  mind.  She  has- 
tily rose,  pushed  aside  the  bolt  of  the  heavy  door,  and 
stepping  into  the  corridor  found  herself  face  to  face 
with  Doiia  Rita. 

"  Ah,  you  are  here !  "  that  lady  exclaimed  in  a  hurried 


'  <  'r 


206 


CHATA   AND   rr^ TA. 


ji       IW"**^ ''I 


i;i: 


i 


m\ 


■    i 


if 


l|»B'fti1.-*.., 


:>3||llllll 


and  abstracted  manner,  far  different  from  that  whach  she 
would  usually  have  worn  at  the  discovery  of  such  a  misde- 
meanor. "  I  have  been  seeking  you  everywhere, —  i.  coiilil 
not  send  a  servant.  And  now  something  has  happe-ncd  in 
the  street,  and  he  has  rushed  away  without  seeing  you,  — 
the  Scfior  General  Ramirez,  I  mean." 

"  I  know  whom  3'ou  mean  !  "  cried  Chata.  "  Oh,  my 
mother,  why  should  I  see  him  ?  "  Then  with  wild  passion 
she  threw  herself  at  Dona  Rita's  feet,  and  buried  her  face 
in  her  skirts  and  the  flowing  ends  of  her  reboso.  "  Oh,  tell 
me  that  it  was  not  true  —  what  I  heard !  I  was  in  the  gar- 
den the  other  evening  as  you  talked !  Oh,  my  mother, 
my  mother ! " 

Dofia  Rita  looked  down  at  her  in  startled  surprise,  but 
almost  instantly  an  expression  of  relief  rose  to  her  counte- 
nance. '*  Rise,  child,  rise  ! "  she  said  in  a  low,  not  ungen- 
tle voice  ;  yet  there  was  an  inexpressible  lack  of  maternal 
solicitude  in  it,  which  struck  to  the  heart  of  the  suffering 
child.  *'  Listen ;  be  reasonable ;  have  I  not  ever  been 
kind  to  thee  ?  I  do  not  blame  thee  even  now  that  thou  art 
forced  to  repay  me  so  ill ;  it  is  not  thy  fault." 

"  But  you  shall  not  be  repaid  so  ill !"  exclaimed  Chata. 
"  I  will  be  your  child  forever.  Oh,  it  is  not  possible  that 
he  —  this  strange  man,  who  frightens  me  —  would  dare 
take  me  from  you  ?  " 

"  Bless  me,  nina^  you  are  a  strange  one  I  If  you  but 
knew  it,  you  have  rare  good  fortune.  A  handsome  lover 
and  a  rich  dowry  are  not  to  be  had  every  day  for  the  asking. 
But  you  show  a  proper  spirit,  and  one  I  should  have  ex- 
pected after  the  good  training  you  have  had.  Heaven 
knows  what  would  have  been  the  result  had  you  been  given 
to  Doiia  Isabel,  and  allowed  to  run  at  large  like  most 
of  the  children  of  Our  Blessed  Lady.  Yet  it  was  a  cruel 
trick  my  mother-in-law  played  me,  and  Rafael  too !  "Well, 
well,  it  shall  be  brought  home  to  him  some  da3\  Listen  ! 
was  not  that  the  sound  of  cannon  ?  and  my  child  abroad ! 
Ave  Maria  Sanctissima  I " 

"Mother,  be  not  afraid!"  said  Chata,  desperately. 
"  She  and  my  grandfather  will  not  yet  have  left  Dona 
Francisca's,  and  that  3'ou  know  is  quite  away  from  the 
plaza  or  the  barracks ;  they  have  only  to  cross  the  gar- 
dens and  be  home  in  a  '  God  speed  us !'    But  as  for  me, 


I  am  i 

were  1( 

that  I J 

conio  o 

"  Th 

with  ai 

"and  t 

sent  to 

/hncy  y 

der-hcai 

whim,  t 

whom  I 

ciate,  — 

instead 

world  bi 

"I  ca 

with  a  d 

looking  J 

the  corri 

ing,  and 

doubts  ag 

see  my  \ 

Feliz,  —  ' 

r>oiia   Ri^ 
shoulders 
secret;  tl 
flog's  life ! 
angry  hus 
poor  Rosj 
"  What 
"Wereyc 
small  ?     "\^ 
t'cntly  rob 
"Yes,y 
cral  Rami] 
C'hata,  mai 
>ny  husbar 
should  be  ^ 
secret  of  y 
reasons, 
more  thanl 


—11?1 


CHATA  AND  CI/IN/TA, 


:h  she 

iiisdc- 
couUl 
ncd  ia 
ou, — 

111,  my 
lassiou 
er  faco 
3h,  tell 
lie  gar- 
aothcr, 

Lse,  but 
countc- 
ungen- 
laternal 
utferuig 
er  been 
thou  art 


207 


I  am  in  more  fright  and  misery  than  if  a  thousand  guns 
were  levelled  upon  me.  Do  you  not  sec,  1  linow  only 
tiiat  I  nm  not  your  child  1  Who  am  1  ?  What  is  to  be- 
come of  me  ?  " 

"The  last  seems  settled  already,"  returned  Dofia  Rita, 
with  an  accent  of  cliagrin  wl»ich  was  almost  spiteful ; 
''  and  the  long  and  short  of  it  is,  child,  that  you  were 
sent  to  Dofia  Isabel,  but  that  my  mother-in-law  had  the 
I'uncy  you  would  bo  safer  with  mo ;  and  I,  like  a  ten- 
der-hearted simpleton,  did  not  object  to  humoring  her 
whim,  thinking  at  the  same  time  I  was  doing  a  person 
whom  I  loved  a  service  she  would  know  how  to  appre- 
ciate, —  and  now  when  the  time  Ivtts  come  for  recompense, 
instead  of  gain,  comes  loss.  There  is  nothing  in  this 
world  but  vexation  and  disappointment." 

"  I  cannot  understand  anything  of  this,"  said  Chata, 
with  a  deep  sigh.  She  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  was 
looking  pitifully  at  Dona  Rita,  who  walked  up  and  down 
the  corridor,  listening  to  the  distant  and  irregular  fir- 
ing, and  interrupting  her  discourse  with  interjections  and 
doubts  as  to  the  safety  of  her  daughter.  "  But  when  I 
see  my  father,  Don  Rafael,  I  will  ask  him,  or  Dona 
Feliz,  —  yes.  Dona  Feliz  always  loved  me." 

"  Ay,  but  you  must  ask  nothing,"  almost  screamed 
Dona  Rita,  running  to  Chata  and  seizing  her  by  the 
shoulders.  "  They  will  think  it  was  I  who  betrayed  the 
secret ;  they  will  never  forgive  me.  Oh,  I  should  lead  a 
dog's  life !  You  are  not  old  enough  to  know  how  cruel  an 
angry  husband  or  a  baffled  mother-in-law  can  be.  And' 
poor  Rosario  —  " 

"  What  can  it  matter  to  Rosario  ? "  in'^errupted  Chata. 
"Were  you  not  lamenting  that  her  dowr/  would  be  so 
small  ?  Will  it  not  be  double  now  that  I  shall  not  inno- 
cently rob  her?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  whispered  Doiia  Rita,  eagerly.  *'  The  Gen- 
eral Ramirez  promised  me  this  very  day  that  when  you, 
Chata,  married  Ruiz,  he  would  make  a  gift  to  Rosario  of  all 
my  husband  may  bestow  on  you,  and  that  as  much  more 
should  be  given  her  on  her  wedding  day,  provided  that  the 
secret  of  your  birth  be  kept.  It  is  useless  to  ask  me  his 
reasons.  He  gave  me  none.  I  cannot  guess  them  any 
more  than  I  can  surmise  why  Dona  Isabel  would  not  re- 


ri: 


•'a 


'     *i 


II 


IJ' 


208 


err  ATA   AND  CiriNlTA. 


i^W^ 


'       %     ' 


ccivo  you,  and  therefore  you  were  thrust  into  my  urriis. 
Ilcnvcns,  what  a  reverberation !  the  whole  house  s.hakcH  !  " 

"It  is  nothing,"  cried  Chata,  "  but  the  slamming  of  a 
door.  I  hear  the  voices  of  Don  Joso  Maria  and  Kosnrio. 
Stay ! "  she  added,  grasping  Dofia  liita  as  she  was  about 
to  run  down  the  stairs.  "I  warn  you  that  I  will  know 
all  the  truth.  Your  poor  reasons  shall  not  keep  me  from 
demanding  it.     Dofia  Feliz  shall  not  refuse  me  ! " 

*'  Dofia  Feliz  will  do  as  she  wills !  "  retorted  Dofla  Rita. 
'^  But  this  I  tell  you,  child,  that  the  moment  Ramirez 
knows  that  those  who  once  crossed  his  plans  are  warned 
against  him,  you  will  be  spirited  away.  Ramirez  has 
his  own  purposes,  and  is  not  to  be  thwarted.  He  is 
already  angry  against  Rafael  and  Dofia  Feliz  for  their 
attempted  and  long  successful  deception.  He  is  a  man  of 
great  and  mysterious  power,  and  knows  not  the  meaning 
of  the  word  fcrgive ;  and  as  sure  as  you  stand  there,  if 
you  disobey  .Xa  commands  sent  you  through  me  he  will 
separate  you  at  once  f^om  your  home  and  friends,  and 
bring  ruin  upon  those  who  have  cared  for  you." 

DoSa  Rita  spoke  with  that  impressive  eloquence  and  firo 
which  upon  occasion  seems  at  the  command  of  every  Mcx« 
ican.  She  stood  with  one  foot  on  the  corridor  floor,  the 
other  upon  the  stair,  which  she  was  about  to  descend,  and 
she  had  turned  half-way  round,  stretching  out  her  hands, 
and  lifting  her  dark  and  anxious  eyes  to  encounter  and  fix 
the  gaze  of  Chata.  Below,  in  the  stone  entrance-way,  stood 
Rosario,  volubly  describing  to  a  servant  the  dangers  she 
and  her  grandfather  had  encountered.  For  the  moment 
Dona  Rita  appeared  in  Chata's  eyes  like  some  timorous 
yet  desperate  animal  standing  between  her  and  her  young. 
"My  Rosario,  my  poor  child,"  said  the  mother  in  alow 
voice,  "  is  her  life  to  be  blasted  by  j'ou?  Ramirez  is  in 
two  minds  now.  One  is  to  resent  the  frustration  of  bis 
will,  and  be  the  mortal  enemy  of  those  who  have  sheltered 
you  ;  the  other  to  applaud  and  reward  them.  Upon  your 
discretion  all  depends." 

"  But  I  shall  go  mad  if  I  have  only  this  to  think  upon," 
exclaimed  Chata.  ' '  Who,  who  can  tell  me  anything  to 
make  this  dreadful  revelation  endurable,  if  not  Don  Rafael 
or  Dona  Feliz  ?    Ah,  yes,  there  is  —  there  is  the  General." 

"Surely!"  replied  Dofia  Rita.     "Yes,  my  life,  I  am 


com  in 
vol  I  t( 
you  111 
Did  li( 
Yes,  y 
and  yc 
iliize  s 
IJafael 
nn  imp 
motion 
would  1 
save  us 
troycd ! 
close  tl 
returnee 
IS  this? 
hnrried 
directing 
who,  atl 
of  men  j 
shutters. 
Cliataj 
the  stair 
over  anc 
Yes,  yes, 
hring  dai 
Yes,  I  TV 
Oil,  wha 
child !    ] 
little'  chil( 
know  he 
Rita  says 
find  false 
ino  —  " 

escaped  h 

the  testin 

was  struc 

spect  and 

bosom  toT 

As  if  tt 

that  facec 

leads  the 


!.i! 


"^"1' 


CI/ATA  AND  CllINITA. 


209 


arms, 
ikcs ! " 
ig  of  a 
osario. 
.  about 
I  know 
10  from 

la  BUa. 
Uamirc/i 

warned 
ircz  has 
He  19 
for  their 
n  man  of 
meaning 

there,  if 
ic  he  will 
luds,  and 

•e  and  fire 
very  Mcx- 
floor,  the 
cend,  and 
ler  hands, 
cr  and  fix 
!vay,  stood 
.ngers  she 
e  moment 
!  timorous 
ler  young, 
r  in  a  low 
mirez  is  in 
ion  of  his 
3  sheltered 
Jpon  your 


cominp;  *'  —  to  Rosario.  **  Yes,  Chata,  could  I  have  found 
vou  to-day,  you  would  have  known  all.  Ask  him  what 
you  like  —  it  will  please  him.  Oh,  he  is  most  considerate. 
Did  ho  not  show  that  by  taking  mo  into  his  confldence? 
Yes,  yes,  you  arc  right;  insist  upon  knowii>g  all  fVom  him, 
find  you  shall  toll  uie :  who  could  understand,  or  sym[)!i- 
iliizo  so  well?  Hut  as  you  love  mo  and  value  the  safety  of 
Rafael,  not  a  word  to  him  or  Doila  Feliz.  —  llosario  1  what 
an  impatient  one  !  What  is  there  to  sec?  If  there  is  com- 
motion in  the  street,  keep  back  from  the  windows.  Ay,  who 
would  have  thought  the  troops  would  pass  this  way?  God 
save  us,  we  shall  bo  killed !  the  whole  town  will  be  des- 
troyed !  The  street  is  alive  with  soldiers.  Bar  the  doors  1 
close  the  shutters !  Oh,  what  horror !  Is  it  Comonfort 
returned?  Is  it  a  pronunciamUntof  What  new  alarm 
IS  this?"  Ejaculating  these  last  sentences  Doila  Rita 
hurried  downstairs  and  rushed  from  room  to  room, 
directing  the  bewildered  servants  and  chiding  Rosario, 
who,  attracted  by  the  sound  of  music  and  the  trampling 
of  men  and  horses,  strove  to  peep  through  a  crack  in  tho 
shutters. 

Chata,  standing  where  she  had  been  left  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  heard  it  all  as  though  in  a  dream.  She  said 
over  and  over  to  herself,  "It  is  tho  General  I  will  ask. 
Yes,  yes,  I  will  have  the  courage  1  No  word  of  mine  shall 
bring  danger  on  my  father.  Oh,  why  do  I  say  *  my  father '  ? 
Yes,  I  will  say  so ;  he  is  mine  until  ho  turns  me  away ! 
Oil,  what  shall  I  do?  Oh,  Sanctissima  Maria,  help  thy 
child !  May  I  not  say  to  Don  Rafael,  '  Hero  is  thy  poor 
little  child ;  she  will  be  the  daughter  of  no  other '?  Oh,  I 
know  he  would  cling  to  me,  fight  for  me ;  but  that  Dona 
Rita  says  would  be  ruin !  Ah,  I  know  the  soldier  is  cruel 
and  false,  even  if  he  is  my  father;  he  has  been  so  to 
me  —  "  She  stopped  suddenl}',  as  though  blasphemy  had 
escaped  her.  Though  she  would  not  believe  in  her  heart 
the  testimony  which  her  reason  could  not  disallow,  she 
was  struck  dumb  by  the  mere  possibility  of  filial  disre- 
spect and  with  the  actual  abhorrence  which  she  felt  in  her 
bosom  toward  the  man  whom  she  instinctively  feared. 

As  if  to  flee  from  her  thoughts,  she  rushed  into  a  room 
that  faced  upon  the  street,  and  with  an  impulse  such  as 
leads  the  desperate  mt^n  to  throw  himself  into  a  vortex  of 

14 


I 


I 


\\ 


f!« 


« 


?fm 


M 
If 

I 


S   .,. 


!r-^    i 


'  ::f  ^J 


210 


en  ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


seething  water,  or  into  the  thickest  of  battle,  as  her  car 
caught  the  sounds  of  commotion,  she  threw  open  the  shut- 
ters and  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony. 

A  scene  of  confusion  met  her  eye,  in  which  men  on 
horseback  and  on  foot  seemed  mingled  indiscriminately-, 
each  individual  struggling  in  an  attempt  to  secure  a  per- 
sonal advantage,  lianks  were  broken  and  scattered. 
Men  and  officers  alike  were  for  the  most  part  un-uni~ 
formed,  and  to  the  uninitiated  it  was  impossible  to 
distinguish  the  adherents  of  one  party  from  those  of  an- 
other, save  by  the  wild  cries  of  '•''Religion  y  Fucros! 
Loug  live  Liberty  I     Long  live  Juarez !  " 

The  name  of  Juarez  had  begun  to  be  a  familiar  one 
in  all  ears ;  and  even  though  it  possessed  not  the  magic 
of  later  years,  the  voices  that  uttered  it  thrilled  with  an 
intensity  of  purpose  which  seemed  to  infuse  the  word 
with  life,  —  to  make  it  a  watchword  for  great  and  noble 
aspirations  and  deeds,  not  the  mere  echo  of  a  name,  a 
party  cry  to  be  shouted  with  frenzy  to-day  and  execrated 
to-morrow. 

It  was  impossible  to  tell  what  chance  had  forced  the 
combatants  upon  that  straggling  highway.  The  struggle 
had  begun  at  the  barracks,  when  a  party  of  horse  had  sur- 
prised the  garrison,  pouncing  upon  it  from  the  hills  like 
hawks  upon  their  prey,  and  by  the  sheer  force  of  surprise, 
rather  than  any  superiority  of  numbers  or  courage,  throw- 
ing it  into  a  confusion  which  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the 
young  officers  speedily  resulted  in  a  panic.  The  soldiers 
Avho  had  been  drilling  before  the  town  prison,  —  which  had 
done  duty  as  a  fort,  —  after  a  feeble  and  confused  attempt 
to  defend  its  doors,  had  been  driven  into  the  plaza ;  and 
when  Ramirez  reached  this,  it  was  to  find  his  own  guns 
turned  upon  him.  His  servant  had  been  leading  his 
charger  up  and  down  the  street,  awaiting  him ;  and 
catching  a  glimpse  of  his  master  as  he  hurried  i)ast  an 
alley  in  which  the  groom  had  taken  refuge,  he  called  in 
mingled  devotion  and  affright,  — 

"For  God's  sake,  Seiior!  here  is  the  black.  Mount 
him  for  3'our  life !  another  moment  and  we  should  have 
been  discovered !  Everybod}'  knows  Choolooke,  and  my 
life  would  not  have  been  worth  a  cent  had  they  caught 
sight  of  him.     My  faith,  I  like  not  these  surprises !    This 


'T    ^ 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


211 


icr  car 

0  shut- 

icn  on 
nately, 
a  pcr- 
ittcred. 
un-uni- 
ible  to 
3  of  an- 
'i^ueros ! 

iiar  one 
e  magic 
with  an 
tic  word 
Qcl  noble 
name,  a 
xecratccl 

)rced  the 
struggle 
had  sur- 
hills  like 
surprise, 
e,  throw- 
•ts  of  the 
soldiers 
hich  had 
|l  attempt 
,za;  and 
wn  guns 
ig  his 
am ;    and 
past  an 
called  in 

Mount 
)uld  have 
f,  and  my 
jy  caught 

!     This 


way,  Scnor !  Around  bv  tlie  church  there  is  an  alley  un- 
guarded. They  arc  figluing  nke  ten  thousand  devils  in 
the  plaza.    It  is  madness  to  go  there  ! " 

Ramirez  sprang  into  the  saddle  with  a  laugh,  though  his 
lips  were  white  and  his  eyes  blazing  with  rage.  It  was  a 
new  experience  to  him  to  be  thus  caught  napping,  —  his 
scouts  must  have  played  him  false.  His  horse  snorted 
and  bounded  under  him.  In  another  moment  he  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  melee,  and  an  electric  shock  seemed  to 
pass  through  friends  and  foes  alike.  There  were  wild 
shrieks  at  sight  of  him.  The  exultant  invaders  echoed 
with  som?  dismay  the  name  of  Ramirez,  the  battle-cry 
with  which  his  followers  made  an  attempt  to  ralh',  seizing 
arms  from  the  hands  of  their  opponents,  or  using  the  pis- 
tols which  had  remained  forgotten  in  their  belts. 

For  a  few  moments  the  plaza  appeared  to  be  a  veritable 
battle-ground,  though  there  was  far  more  noise  and  con- 
fusion than  actual  fighting  done.  Ramirez  knew  with 
infinite  rage  and  shame  that  he  would  probably  be  forued 
to  yield  the  town,  rather  by  strategy  than  superior  num- 
bers. It  would  have  been  an  actual  pleasure  to  him  at 
the  moment  to  have  seen  his  followers  falling  in  their 
blood,  rather  than  flying  disarmed,  —  even  though  they 
should  rally  later  and  take  a  terrible  revenge  upon  the 
encmj'.  For  an  instant  his  presence  stemmed  the  current 
of  retreat,  but  for  an  instant  only.  There  had  been  a 
secret  dissatisfaction  in  his  ranks,  which  the  sight  of 
the  well-known  face  of  a  popular  leader,  together  with 
panic,  rapidly  fermented  into  a  pronunciamiento ;  and 
even  as  Ramirez,  waving  his  sword  above  his  head,  entered 
the  street  of  the  Orchards,  he  was  saluted  with  the  shout, 
"  Down  with  Ramirez !  Down  with  the  Clergy !  Long 
live  Juarez  I  Long  live  Gonzales  ! '  and  through  the  dust 
and  smoke  he  caught  sight  of  Vicente  Gonzales,  almost 
unrecognizable  under  the  grime  of  the  hurried  march  and 
the  heat  of  excitement  and  success. 

The  two  were  so  close  together  they  could  have  touched 
each  other.  One  of  those  hand-to-hand  encounters  which 
the  history  of  Mexico  proves  were  not  infrequent  even  at 
that  date  seemed  inevitable,  as  they  turned  toward  each 
other  with  the  fury  of  personal  hatred  added  to  partisan 
animosity. 


i< 


IT 


■■'>  1 


U' 


212 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


,1 
f 


\h\) 
In' 

III  I 
1 1' 


\\i 


\f  J 


i-r'"l^ 


But  at  the  moment  when  the  two  fiery  steeds 
have   clashed  together,   a  woman  threw  herself 


would 
before 

Ramirez  and  caught  his  arm,  calling  aloud  his  name. 
With  that  wonderful  j^ower  of  the  bridle-hand  possessed 
by  the  horsemen  of  Mexico,  Gonzales  drew  back  his 
charger  and  gazed  full  at  his  opponent,  whom  force  more 
potent  than  a  blow  seemed  to  arrest.  The  crowd  surged 
in;  Ramirez's  horse  was  forced  back.  The  woman 
had  fallen  in  the  meltSe ;  and  with  a  curse  upon  her  the 
guerilla  chieftain  was  swept  onward  in  the  current  of 
retreat. 

Chata  from  the  balcony  had  witnessed  this  incident  in 
the  distance.  She  shrieked  as  the  woman  fell.  An  officer 
who  was  speeding  past  looked  up, — it  was  Fernando  Ruiz. 
"  Coward !  "  she  involuntarily  cried,  "  to  leave  your  Gen- 
eral I  "  She  realized  how  impossible,  having  lost  the  first 
moment  of  vantage,  would  be  an  attempt  to  control  the 
undisciplined  and  flying  rabble  when  even  the  oncers  had 
succumbed  to  panic ;  and  for  the  first  time  her  s/mpathies 
woke  for  Ramirez. 

Yielding  to  the  necessity  of  the  moment  the  General 
had  put  spurs  to  his  horse.  The  bullets  flew  past  him  as 
he  sped  over  the  highway ;  yet  he  glanced  up  as  he  passed 
the  house,  —  he  even  drew  rein  for  an  instant  in  alarmed 
surprise. 

"Go  in!  go  in!"  he  cried.  *'What!  wilt  thou  be 
killed  in  mere  wantoness  ?  Go  in,  I  tell  thee !  Are  both 
to  be  killed  before  my  eyes  to-day?"  Chata  sprang 
tlirough  the  open  window  in  aff'right,  obedient  rather  to 
his  stern  yet  imploring  gesture  than  to  his  words.  He 
glanced  back,  fired  a  pistol  toward  a  pair  of  Liberal 
soldiers  who  had  rapidly  gained  upon  him,  and  without 
the  change  of  a  muscle  upon  his  set  face,  as  one  of  them 
pitched  headlong  from  his  plunging  steed,  continued  his 
flight  and  disappeared  in  the  low  bushes. 

With  horror  Chata  watched  the  death  agony  of  the 
wounded  soldier.  His  comrade  had  not  thought  it  worth 
while  to  linger ;  there  might  be  booty  or  sport  elsewhere. 
All  the  church  bells  were  being  rung  for  the  victory  by 
this  time.  The  half  hour's  fight  was  over ;  the  fort  had 
been  taken,  tlie  garrison  routed,  a  pronunciamiento  suc- 
cessful ;  the  town  had  changed  its  poUtics.    A  few  dead 


men 

ingoi 

house 

settin 

of  the 

The 

the  sti 

as  tha 

Ramir' 

one  w( 

Sol, 

the  ba 

Doiia  j 

conven 

thought 

grating 

with  11^ 

out  wis 

her  lar^ 

softened 
wliich  si 
to  check 
Upon 
window 
"nusuall 
Chata  al 
them  bel 
The  si 
attendan 
of  dismis 
extended 
"  Forgive 
3ou,"  sJie 
to  make 
linda,  tua 
spotless  s 
The  cy( 
J  have  no 
tlio  world 
^iita,  that 
At  that 
and  eager 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


213 


NTOUlcl 

)cfore 
lamc. 
sesscd 
ik  his 
more 
jurgetl 
voraan 
LGi"  the 
•ent  of 

dent  in 
L  oftlccr 
o  lluiz. 
ir  Gen- 
bhe  first 
trol  tlic 
•ers  had 
apathies 

General 
t  him  as 
passed 
alarmed 


,  of  the 
j^  it  worth 
ksewhere. 
[ctory  by 
Ifort  had 
tmto  suc- 
Ifew  dead 


men  were  lying  in  the  streets,  a  few  wounded  were  bath- 
ing or  plastering  their  bleeding  heads  or  limbs ;  the  closed 
houses  were  opening  again ;  the  street  merchants  were 
setting  foilh  their  wares  ;  and  one  of  the  thousand  phases 
of  the  revolution  had  passed. 

The  next  day  the  Liberal  soldiers  were  lounging  about 
the  streets ;  the  boys  were  shouting,  *'  Long  Uve  Gonzales  ! " 
as  they  went  by,  as  thej'  had  shouted  before,  "  Long  live 
Ramirez !  "  A  tranquil  gayety  pervaded  the  place.  No 
one  would  have  known  its  peace  had  ever  been  disturbed. 

So  lovely  was  the  afternoon,  and  the  distant  sounds  of 
the  band  playing  in  the  plaza  were  so  inspiring,  that 
Dona  Rita  and  her  two  charges  sallied  forth  to  visit  the 
convent.  Thev  had  often  been  there  before.  Rosario 
thought  it  dull  to  wait  while  her  mother  chatted  at  the 
grating  with  the  soft-voiced  nuns,  but  Chata  watched  them 
with  awe.  There  was  one  whose  pale  face  used  to  peer 
out  wistfully  through  the  semi-darkness ;  her  voice  and 
her  large  dark  eyes,  it  seemed  to  Chata,  were  always 
softened  by  tears.  She  longed  to  touch  the  white  hand 
which  she  sometimes  saw  raised  to  the  sensitive  lips,  as  if 
to  check  some  ill-considered  word. 

Upon  this  day  some  rays  of  light  piercing  the  barred 
window  of  the  corridor  rendered  the  features  of  the  nun 
unusually  distinct.  A  sense  of  bewilderment  stole  over 
Chata  as  she  gazed  upon  them.  Where  had  she  seen 
them  before?    Who  was  this  Sister  Veronica? 

The  short  time  allowed  for  the  interview  expired ;  the 
attendant  nun  gave  her  hand  to  Dona  Rita  to  kiss  in  token 
of  dismissal,  and  turned  away.  As  the  Sister  Veronica 
extended  her  hand  in  turn,  Dona  Rita  caught  it  eagerly  : 
"  Forgive  me !  Forgive  me  I  Oh,  I  had  thought  so  ill  of 
you,"  she  said  earnestly  ;  "  yet  to  think  ill  of  you  seemed 
to  make  my  own  life  noble.  Forgive  me,  Seiiorita  Iler- 
linda,  tliat  I  ever  thought  you  anything  but  a  true  and 
spotless  saint ! " 

The  eyes  of  the  nun  opened  wide.  "Forgive,  forgive? 
I  have  nothing  to  forgive ;  why  should  not  you  —  ay,  all 
the  world  —  condemn  me  ?  "  she  whispered  hoarsely.  ' '  Oh, 
Rita,  that  face  !  that  face !  " 

At  that  instant  the  slide  was  drawn  and  the  white  face 
and  eager  eyes  of  the  nun  disa[)[)earcd. 


i^H 


>:^  i; 


■H 


1 

* 

iff^ 

If 

1  f 

! 

1 

■ 

1:    , 

i\  ■ 

t 

' 

n 

■ 

1 

««»v«> 


1 :      mik 

I*!     .            \ ! 

Ir.          '1 

214 


CI/ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


Chata  turned  to  look  behind  her  where  the  nun  had 
apparently  directed  her  gaze.  A  woman  was  crouching 
on  the  door-sill.  She  was  not  old,  though  over  her  won- 
derful Spanish  beauty  some  power  of  devastation  seemed 
to  have  swept.  She  was  carelessly  but  richly  dressed,  the 
disorder  of  her  i^erson  seemingly  according  with  that  of 
her  manner,  —  perhaps  of  her  intellect;  for  though  evi- 
dently a  lady  by  birth,  she  lay  in  the  sun,  her  head  uncov- 
ered, her  shawl  thrown  back  from  her  shoulders,  her  hair, 
which  was  of  a  pecuUar  reddish  brown,  half  uncoiled, 
twining  like  little  serpents  around  her  throat. 

She  glanced  carelcssl}*  up  as  Dona  Rita  and  the  3'oung 
girls  passed  her.  Chata  saw  with  surprise  that  one  side 
of  her  face  was  bruised,  and  there  was  a  deep  scratch  on 
her  arm.  Where  had  she  seen  before  the  glint  of  that 
shining  hair?  It  flashed  over  her  in  a  moment.  This 
was  the  woman  who  had  thrown  herself  upon  Ramirez  ! 

Chata  involuntarily  paused,  but  Dofia  Rita  caught  her 
hand  and  drew  ber  awav.  She  had  motioned  Rosario  on 
before.  Her  very  garments  had  rustled  with  disdain  as 
she  passed  the  prostrate  woman. 

"  Such  as  these  one  can  at  least  be  certain  of,"  she 
said  sententiously.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  own 
one's  self  mistaken.  Chata  detected  chagrin  In  the  tone 
of  her  voice :  was  she  piqued  that  she  had  misjudged  Sis- 
ter Veronica?  Then  she  remembered  with  a  start  what 
the  new  interest  of  the  moment  had  driven  from  her  mind, 
—  th  J  name  by  which  her  mother  had  addressed  the  nun : 
it  was  of  the  Sefiorita  Herlinda  that  her  mother  had 
asked  pardon ! 

A  feeling  of  awe  crept  over  her.  She  had  seen  Dona 
Isabel's  beautiful  and  sainted  daughter,  around  whose 
name  hung  so  much  romance  and  mysterj'.  And  oh  the 
sadness  of  that  face !  the  wistfulness  of  those  eyes !  the 
appealing  agony'  of  that  voice  ! 

When  they  reached  the  house  the  door  was  ajar ;  there 
was  a  mild  excitement  within.  A  familiar  voice  saluted 
their  ears.  Dona  Rita  clutched  Chata's  arm  and  wliis- 
l)ered,  "Not  a  word,  I  command  thee!"  and  with  a 
glance  of  mingled  entreaty  and  menace  followed  Rosario 
to  greet  Don  Rafael  with  exclamations  of  welcome  and 
delight. 


Cha 

sjglit  < 

father, 

^een  a 

broken 

"M 

with  pi 

He  cauj 

eyelids 

ently  h, 

kissed  ] 
feeling  ^ 
had  mut 
and  he  h 


ling 
roii- 
ncicd 
,tlic 
.t  of 
cvi- 
icov- 
liair, 
nled, 

•oung 
c  sklc 
:ch  on 
f  that 
Tbis 
ez! 
;lit  her 
alio  on 
lain  as 

f,"  she 
to  own 
ic  tone 
\fQd  Sis- 
Ivt  what 
■r  mind, 
\e  nun : 
iier  had 


CIIATA  AND   CHINITA. 


215 


Chata  took  with  icj'^  fingers  the  hand  he  extended  at 
sight  of  her  and  bent  over  it  with  tears  and  kisses.  "  My 
father,  my  own  father ! "  she  wliispered.  Even  had  she 
been  at  Uberty  to  do  so,  she  would  not  for  the  world  have 
broken  the  spell  of  those  words. 

"  M3'  patron  saint ! "  cried  Don  Kafacl,  regarding  her 
with  puzzled  fondness,  "what  has  come  to  the  child?" 
He  caught  her  on  his  arm  and  held  her  from  him.  Her 
eyelids  lowered,  her  color  rose  beneath  his  gaze.  Pres- 
ently he  released  her  and  turned  away.  He  had  not 
kissed  her.  Had  he  forgotten?  Had  some  new,  deep 
feeling  withheld  him  ?  Chata  felt  cold  and  faint ;  he  too 
had  muttered  under  his  breath,  "That  face!  that  face!" 
and  he  had  spoken  those  words  of  her. 


••&{ 
M 


V  II 


In  Dona 
whose 
Id  oh  tlic 
[esl  the 

ir;  there 
saluted 

lid  wliis- 

with  a 

Rosavio 

hme  ami 


Hi  '•<k1 


im   |(**Ji 


f 

1 

.■'■   ■ 

'1' 

ly' 

XXV. 


.,«    1 


For  many  days  following  the  unexpected  event  wliicli 
closed  the  feast  of  Juana's  marriage,  an  old  proverb  went 
the  rounds  of  the  gossips  of  Tres  Hermanos :  "  She  who 
would  handle  the  wild-cat  should  wear  steel  gloves." 
Dona  Isabel  had  heard  it  perhaps,  though  it  was  not 
likely  to  reach  her  ears  then:  and  assuredly  she  had 
reason  to  remember  it. 

Perhaps  when  Chinita  crossed  the  court  and  followed 
Dona  Isabel  upstairs  to  her  own  room,  dazzling  visions 
flitted  before  her  of  being  clasped  in  the  embrace  of  her 
patroness,  and  being  called  by  the  name  which  to  her 
was  sovereign.  But  nothing  of  the  sort  occurred.  Dofia 
Isabel  threw  herself  into  a  chair  as  if  exhausted,  and  bent 
her  face  upon  her  hands,  leaving  the  child  standing  so 
long  regarding  her  in  silence  that  at  length  her  impatient 
spirit  rose  in  rebellion,  and  she  said,  "The  Seiiora  surely 
brought  me  here  for  something  more  than  to  stand  like  a 
drowsy  hen  waiting  for  morning." 

Doiia  Isabel  raised  her  head  at  these  words,  which 
though  impatient  did  not  strike  her  as  impertinent,  —  she 
was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  characteristic  speecli  of 
her  inferiors,  rich  in  quaint  phrases  and  figures  drawn 
from  familiar  objects,  —  and  regarding  the  girl  with  that 
curious  mixture  of  admiration  and  repulsion  which  never 
entiioly  disappeared,  she  replied,  — 

''Thou  art  a  proud  child.  Humility  would  better  be- 
come tliee.  Hast  thou  no  other  name  than  Chinita,  which 
1  hear  all  call  thee?" 

"  I  was  baptized  like  any  other  Christian,"  cried  Chinita, 
indignantly.  "  And  as  for  surname,"  she  added  recklessly, 
"  if  I  am  not  Garcia,  you  Sciiora,  will  tell  me  !  " 

Dofia  Isabel's  lips  compressed ;  no  effort  of  her  will 
could  prevent  the  falling  of  her  eyelids,  —  an  actual  fear 
of  the  girl  seized  her ;  yet  she  was  fascinated.     She  said 


CI/ATA  AND   CHINITA. 


217 


wliich 

went 

e  who 

JVCS." 

IS  not 
e  bad 

llowcd 
visions 
of  her 
to  her 

Dona 
id  bent 
ding  so 
patient 

surely 
I  like  a 

which 
—  she 

cech  of 
drawn 

ith  that 
never 

tter  bc- 
whicli 

^Jhinita, 
jklessly, 

her  will 

lull  fear 

;he  said 


not  a  word,  and  presently  Chinita  began  to  laugh  in  a 
low,  triumphant  tone,  which  was  to  Dona  Isabel  like  the 
mocking  of  a  thousand  devils. 

"  Hush,  hush !  "  she  said  violently  at  length.  "  You 
distract,  you  madden  me  ! " 

She  caught  up  a  candle,  took  the  girl's  hand  and  drew 
her  impetuously  into  the  corridor.  She  tried  several  doors, 
and  opened  the  first  that  yielded.  It  was  not  until  they 
stood  within  the  room  that  Doiia  Isabel  knew  it  was 
that  ( long  deserted,  half  unconsciously  avoided  )  of  Iler- 
linda.  She  started,  and  clasped  her  hand  over  her  heart. 
Then  as  if  scorning  her  weakness,  pointed  to  the  bed,  and 
without  a  word  turned  from  the  room. 

With  a  sense  of  wild  exultation  Chinita  saw  she  was 
to  sleep  in  a  bed,  like  a  woman  of  quality ;  in  the  very 
bed  of  the  daughter,  whose  name,  like  that  of  a  saint, 
was  spoken  with  bated  breath  by  the  vulgar,  and  was 
perhaps  too  sacred  for  utterance  by  those  who  had 
loved  her. 

The  little  structure  of  brass,  with  its  mattresses  and 
pillowsj  its  linen  and  lace,  was  unpretentious  enougli,  but 
Chinita  walked  around  it  and  eyed  it  almost  in  awe,  as  if 
it  had  been  the  throne  of  a  princess.  The  candle  was  be- 
ginning to  flicker  in  its  socket  when  she  at  last  lay  down, 
adjusting  her  head  to  the  unaccustomed  pressure  of  the 
pillows  with  some  difficult}',  saying  to  herself  with  an 
impatient  smile,  "  What  a  poor  creature  I  am !  Even 
the  things  I  have  longed  for  hurt  more  than  please  me  to 
learn  to  use.  But  there  must  be  still  greater  things  to 
conform  to,  and  I  shall  do  it.  Oh,  yes,  Sanchita  thought 
she  could  ride  in  a  coach,  and  be  taken  for  a  lad}'  as  well  as 
another;  and  I  who  was  born  a  lady  must  forget  I  have 
Ik'imi  ever  a  Sanchita.     It  should  not  be  hard ! " 

Chinita  had  slept  far  better  upon  the  preceding  night 
upon  a  sheepskin.  Her  excitement  and  the  unusual  comfort 
of  the  bed  kept  her  wakeful ;  and  at  earl}'  dawn  she  was 
up,  peeping  into  the  wardrobe,  where  long-disused  dresses 
and  other  garments  were  hanging.  She  took  down  one  oi 
bright  silk  and  put  it  on,  and  thought  how  exactly  it  fitted 
her.  She  could  scarcely  see  herself  in  the  dim' mirror,  and 
she  went  to  the  door  to  open  it  for  the  admission  of  more 
light,  and  with  a  momentary  fright  found  herself  a  prisoner. 


t      ! 


Iff*' 
■  / 


218 


CJIATA   AND  CIJINITA. 


■■•' 
{%'■'■■ 

m 


m      ^    ,.  ,.. 


•"»^,-v,vJ'  ,., 


She  decided  in  a  moment  that  Doiia  Isabel  had  no  inten- 
tion of  detaining  her  beyond  the  8leo[)ing  hours,  yet  a 
feverish  impulse  seized  her  to  escape  at  once.  That  any 
one  should  hold  her  at  a  moment's  disadvantage  was  in- 
tolerable to  her.  Without  thinking  of  tlic  dress  she  had 
on,  slio  glanced  around  her  eagerly  for  means  of  egress. 
Tlie  window  was  barred,  but  there  was  a  door  that  o[)- 
enod  into  on  adjoining  chamber,  into  wliich  she  i)asHC(l 
liastily,  liiuling  the  door  that  opened  on  the  corridor  actu- 
ally ajar.  As  her  way  was  open,  she  was  in  no  huiry 
to  depart,  but  stood  balancing  herself  on  one  foot,  hold- 
ing b}'  one  hand  to  the  door-post,  and  with  the  other 
pushing  back  her  hair  that  she  might  see  clearly  into 
the  court. 

Not  a  creature  was  astir ;  tlio  very  bird  that  was  in  a 
cage  hanging  near  her  stood  silently  on  his  perch,  with 
his  head  on  one  side,  gazing  through  the  bars  as  if  in 
pensive  wonderment  at  the  silence. 

Chinita  had  a  feeling  that  the  world  had  been  trans- 
formed with  her ;  she  was  half  terrified,  yet  amused,  and 
longed  for  some  one  to  speak  to.  Could  she  speak  the 
old  words,  the  accustomed  sounds?  Was  she  indeed 
Chinita  and  not  another?  Had  Kosario  or  Chata  been 
under  the  same  roof,  she  would  have  been  tempted  to  run 
to  them  at  once  with  the  query  ;  but  there  was  no  one  who 
would  k'low  what  she  meant  if  she  put  such  a  question  to 
them.  They  would  only  laugh  and  stare  and  pass  on. 
Ah,  there  was  one  who  could  not  pass  on  I  At  a  bound 
she  was  on  the  stairs,  and  in  a  minute  stood  at  the  door 
of  the  stranger's  room.  It  was  open ;  he  liked  the  air. 
Early  as  it  was,  Selsa  had  left  him ;  so  without  let  or 
hindrance  Chinita  seated  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
and  with  expressive  pantomime  began  to  inquire  into  the 
state  of  the  wounded  shoulder. 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  in  amaze.  This  was 
the  strangest  of  the  strange  visitors  he  had  had.  At  first 
he  did  not  recognize  her  in  the  incongruous  dress ;  l)ut 
a  glance  at  the  elfin  face  and  the  mop  of  curls  recalled  to 
his  mind  the  name  Chinita,  and  he  held  out  his  hand 
with  a  gesture  of  welcome  and  surprise,  and  even  found 
words  in  his  meagre  stock  of  Spanish  to  ask  her  where  she 
had  been. 


CI/ATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


219 


**  I  have  been  in  my  home,"  she  answered  witli  a  great 
show  ot*  dignity.  "  Do  you  not  see,  I  am  a  lady,  a  grand 
lady?" 

She  had  risen  and  spread  out  the  silken  dress  with  her 
hands.  The  young  man  caught  one  of  the  locks  of  her 
hair,  and  pulled  it  teasingly,  *'iVc)  compremlo,  I  don't 
understand.  Tell  me  where  is  your  mother?  Where  is 
your  padre  f  " 

Such  a  mixture  of  languages  should  have  been  unintelli- 
gible, but  Chinita  understood  very  well,  and  with  a  sudden 
prompting  of  the  spirit  of  mischief  which  was  never  far 
from  her,  replied,  "  Padre  mio  muerto !  Americano 
guero^  como  Ud.  !     Oh^  si  Americano  I " 

"What!"  cried  the  young  man  in  English,  "Your 
father  dead!  An  American?  Fair  like  me?"  He  had 
clutched  the  lock  of  hair  so  tightly,  as  he  rose  in  his 
bed  in  his  excitement,  that  her  head  was  quite  near  him. 
"Are  you  quite  sure?  Can  it  be  possible?"  adding,  with 
sudden  remembrance  that  intelligent  though  she  was  it 
was  impossible  she  should  understand  his  foreign  tongue, 
and  angry  as  he  saw  her  at  his  vehemence,  it  was  un- 
likely she  should  care  to  divine  his  meaning,  '■'■  Nina 
hotiita^  pretty  child,  pardon  me !  Your  father  an  Ameri- 
cano f  Well,  that  is  wonderful!  I  Americano, — 1, 
Ashley  Ward.     Pardona  mi!" 

Chinita  was  not  to  be  at  once  appeased ;  but  she  saw 
with  inward  delight  that  he  was  much  impressed  b}'  her 
claim  jestingly  set  forth  to  American  parentage,  and 
there  was  something  in  the  sound  of  his  name  that  recalled 
to  her  mind  the  man  who  had  been  murdered  so  many 
years  ago.  She  began  with  a  thousand  gestures,  which 
made  somewhat  intelligible  her  voluble  Spanish,  to  give  an 
account  of  him.  The  young  man  listened  with  intense 
excitement,  anathematizing  his  ignorance  of  the  language 
in  which  she  spoke,  yet  convinced  that  chance  had  led 
him  to  the  very  spot  which  he  had  had  it  in  his  mind  to 
seek.  In  the  interest  of  her  narration,  Chinita  forgot  the 
assertion  she  had  made  ;  but  her  listener  more  than  once 
supposed  that  she  alluded  to  it,  and  looked  intentlj'  upon 
her  lace  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  some  expression  that  should 
remind  him  even  of  the  race  to  which  the  man  of  whom 
slic  spoke  had  belonged.     But  there  was  nothing.     The 


It  1  • 


m 


:f 


220 


C/fATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


i1 


W- 


features,  expression,  color,  were  those  of  a  Mexican  of 
uiixcd  Spauish  and  Indian  types,  witli  nothing  individual 
other  than  a  weird  beauty  and  vivacit}-,  and  the  peculiar 
hair  which  had  suggested  the  name  that  even  Dofia  Isa- 
bel did  not  seek  to  disassociate  from  her.  For  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  interest  of  her  narrative  was  at  its  height, 
and  Ashley  Ward  had  risen  on  his  pillows  and  was  follow- 
ing her  every  gesture  with  mute  and  rapt  attention,  the 
lady  of  the  mansion  entered,  calling  breathlessly,  "Chinita ! 
Chinita ! "  suddenly  arresting  her  steps,  as  she  caught  the 
concluding  words :  "  And  so  he  was  killed  !  And  they  say 
it  was  not  a  man,  but  the  Devil  who  did  it.  But  for  my 
part  I  don't  believe  it,  for  the  ghost  of  the  American 
can  be  seen  under  the  tree  or  at  the  old  reduction- 
works  any  night ;  and  it 's  not  likely  Senor  Satan  would 
give  so  much  liberty  to  a  soul  he  seemed  so  anxious 
to  get." 

Chinita  had  finished  her  sentence  with  a  certain  defiance, 
for  she  felt  guilty  before  Dona  Isabel,  —  not  so  much  for 
being  found  in  the  room  of  the  wounded  guest,  as  because 
of  her  borrowed  attire.  But  Dona  Isabel  did  not  seem  to 
nc  Jice  that.  "Thou  art  wrong  to  come  here,"  she  said; 
*'  thou  art  wrong  to  talk  like  a  scullery-maid  of  things 
thou  dost  not  understand.  What  did  1  hear  thee  say  of 
an  American  as  I  came  in  ?  " 

"  Did  I  say  American?  "  retorted  Chinita  with  n  laugh 
at  the  thought  of  the  jest  she  had  made,  for  the  idea  of 
falsehood  did  not  occur  to  her.  "^Ah,  yes!  I  told  him 
the  American  was  my  father !  He  would  have  believed 
me  even  had  I  said  Seiior  San  Gabriel.  Oh,  it  is  a 
grand  diversion  to  see  his  eyes  open  with  wonder !  Sclsa 
says  he  is  dumb  and  deaf  and  understands  nothing,  but 
there  is  not  a  word  I  say  that  he  docs  not  understand 
quickly  enough ;  and  he  knows  — "  But  she  ceased 
suddenly,  for  Doiia  Isabel  was  deadly  white.  She  had 
turned  to  the  American  almost  ficrcel}',  and  demanded 
hoarsely,  "What  has  this  child  told  3'ou?  What  tale 
has  she  poured  into  j-our  cars,  wild,  improbable, — the 
dreams  of  a  child,  filled  with  the  superstitious  tales  of 
the  common  people  ?  What  have  you  heard  ?  What  have 
you  believed  ? " 

Ashley  Ward  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise  at  her 


I  \nngli 


CI/ATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


221 


vehemence.  Her  gestures  did  not  translate  to  him  the 
purport  of  words  which  had  not  even  a  familiar  sound. 
After  a  moment  he  shook  liis  head,  and  said  slowly :  "  No 
comprendo  /    I  do  not  understand  Spanish." 

Dona  Isabel  breathed  freely ;  her  rigid  face  relaxed ; 
she  almost  smiled.  "  Foolish  child,"  she  said  to  Chinita ; 
"  he  does  not  understand  our  language.  Come,  thou 
Shalt  have  chocolate  with  me.  I  am  not  angry,  though 
thou  art  a  runaway." 

Chinita  seldom  afterward  found  Dona  Isabel  so  gra- 
cious when  she  had  committed  a  fault ;  but  she  discovered 
at  night,  when  she  was  left  in  her  room  alone,  that  that 
particular  escapade  was  not  to  be  repeated.  The  door 
which  led  to  the  adjoining  room  was  locked,  as  well  as  that 
which  opened  upon  the  corridor.  She  shook  the  bars  of 
the  window  in  impotent  rage.  She  opened  her  mouth  to 
scream,  to  wake  the  echoes  with  the  name  of  Pedro,  but 
at  a  second  thought  refrained,  and  went  and  lay  quietly 
down  like  a  baflled  animal  reserving  its  strength  for  the 
time  when  its  prey  should  be  near.  She  did  not  sleep. 
She  had  done  nothing  to  tire  her,  and  also  she  had 
dropped  into  plumber  more  than  once  during  the  day  in 
the  silence  of  Dona  Isabel's  room,  where  she  had  sat 
watching  her,  as  she  opened  drawers  and  boxes,  and  as  if 
by  stealth  moved  various  articles  to  a  large  trunk,  turning 
from  it  with  affected  carelessness  when  Dona  Feliz  or  any 
servant  entered. 

Chinita  was  living  over  again  in  her  mind  the  long  mo- 
notonous day,  feeling  as  if  a  thunder-clap  or  some  con- 
vulsion of  Nature  must  break  upon  the  feverish  stillness, 
when  she  heard  a  tap  at  her  window.  The  sash  was 
already  raised,  but  she  sprang  noiselessly  from  the  bed 
and  across  tie  floor,  and  thrust  her  hand  through  the  bars, 
for  she  divined  that  Pedro  had  called  her. 

"It  is  but  for  a  moment,  nina^'  he  whispered,  almost 
humbly,  as  he  kissed  her  hand.  "  But  tell  me,  art  thou 
happy  ;  art  thou  content?  " 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  happ}'^?  "  she  asked.  "  I  have 
worn  a  silk  gown  all  day  long,  and  have  eaten  and  drunk 
things  so  dainty  a  humming-bird  might  sip  them;  and 
Dona  Isabel  has  dared  not  say  no  to  me,  —  though  she 
does  not  love  me,  Pedro,  and  I  love  not  her." 


|U 


1 


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p 


222 


CI/ATA   AND   CmjVlTA. 


i 


/: 


((■ 


m 


*'Thcn  thou  wilt  come  ngftin  to  poor  Pedro,  who  does 
love  thee?"  queried  the  gutckcepcr  in  a  tremulous  uiul 
dou))ting  voice. 

She  witlulrow  her  hand,  tossing  her  head  scornfully. 
*'  No,"  hIio  Haiil.  "  Y(>u  know  how  the  bhick  cat  strayoil 
once  into  the  hut,  and  though  Floroncia  drove  him  away, 
and  would  strike  and  frighten  him  if  lie  stole  as  nuich  as 
a  morsel  of  dried  beef,  he  would  come  back  and  curl  him- 
self  under  the  bench,  and  lie  there  upon  the  cold  lloor, 
though  he  might  hnve  gone  to  the  granaricf)  and  had  his 
fill  of  fat  mice,  and  plenty  of  straw  to  lie  on.  Well, 
Pedro,  I  am  the  black  cat,  and  I  will  stay  in  Dofia  Isabel's 
house  because  it  is  my  humor,  and  I  cannot  tell  why,  and 
there  is  an  end  of  it." 

Pedro  sighed ;  but  presently  he  said  in  his  slow  way, 
"Well,  well!  God  is  God,  —  may  he  care  for  thee! 
Pedro  can  be  of  no  more  use  to  thee ;  the  guitar  that 
doesn't  accord  with  the  voice  is  best  hung  upon  the  wall. 
Farewell,  Chinita;  God  grant  thee  so  much  good  that 
thou  needst  not  remember  tliy  old  friends." 

Chinita  laughed.  "  Thou  art  vexed,  Pedro ;  but  I  love 
thee,  and  I  would  love  thee  more  if  thou  wouldst  tell  me 
the  name  of  my  father  or  my  mother."  Podro  shook  his 
head.  "Oh,  I  am  sure  thou  dost  not  know  ;  thou  couUlst 
not  have  kept  a  secret  all  these  jears ! "  She  looked  at 
him  sharply,  but  he  was  not  the  man  to  begin  unwary  de- 
fences, which  might  to  a  keen  eye  expose  the  weakest 
spots  in  his  armor.  He  stood  for  some  moments  quite 
silent.  Chinita  saw  by  the  moonlight  that  his  face  had 
lines  upon  it  she  had  never  seen  before.  Her  conscience 
smote  her,  yet  she  could  not  say  she  was  sorry  for  the  fate 
which  had  parted  them,  —  for  it  did  not  occur  to  her  any 
more  than  to  him  that  he  might  question  the  act  of  Dona 
Isabel,  and  refuse  to  yield  the  child  he  had  sheltered  from 
its  birth. 

"  What  secret  should  the  tool  have  ?  "  he  asked  at  length 
bitterly.  "  It  is  taken  up  and  laid  by  as  the  master  wills. 
Years  ago  I  used  to  think  I  was  a  man,  but  since  then  I 
have  been  but  a  dog  to  watch  and  to  guard ;  but  the  watch 
is  over,  and  the  dog  may  be  a  man  again.  That  would 
please  you,  would  it  not?  There  is  better  work  than  to 
sit  at  a  gate  and  sec  the  soldiers  come  and  go,  and  never 


CI/ATA   AND  CniNITA, 


223 


hear  so  miieli  as  tho  echo  of  a  shot ;  or  as  much  aa  know 
why  there  is  a  smell  of  blood  always  in  the  air,  and  nu-n 
art!  (lrafj;ged  away  to  death.  Gonzales  toUl  me  the  strii;j;- 
gle  Ih  for  liberty ;  1  can  do  no  niort*  for  you,  and  I  will  }j:o 
and  sec.  Who  knows  what  I  may  find  beyoml  thert-? 
Who  knows  what  news  I  may  brinj^  to  you  ?  " 

The  face  usually  so  stoical  in  its  expression  was  lighted 
as  if  by  an  inward  fire.  For  the  first  time  Chinita  knew 
that  this  man  too  had  his  ambitions,  the  stronpjer  that  they 
had  been  repressed  for  years.  Would  he  join  the  next 
band  of  soldiers  or  bandits  that  came  that  way?  The 
thought  struck  her  comically,  like  a  touch  of  the  mock 
heroic;  yet  it  thrilled  her.  She  would  have  liked  to  be  a 
soUlier  herself.  She  would  have  chosen  to  be  a  boy  to  go 
with  him  ;  and  yet  she  was  glad  they  were  to  part,  if  that 
indeed  was  his  meaning,  —  that  her  foster  father  would  no 
longer  sit  at  the  gate. 

lie  had  touched  her  hand  and  bent  to  kiss  it  humbly, 
as  he  might  have  saluted  Dona  Isabel  herself.  Then  iio 
thrust  a  long  narrow  package  through  the  bars,  muttered 
softl}',  "  Adios"  and  stole  noiselessly  away. 

Though  Chinita  saw  him  at  his  old  place  on  the  morrow, 
she  understood  that  an  eternal  farewell  had  been  made  to 
their  old  relations  and  their  old  life.  All  that  remained 
of  them  was  contained  in  the  i)ackage  of  trinkets  he  had 
brought  her,  —  the  coral  beads,  the  few  irregular  pearls, 
the  many-hucd  reboso,  and  tho  ribbons  she  had  prized  and 
which  in  his  simplicity  he  had  thought  she  would  regret. 
Indeed,  she  had  recognized  them  with  a  thrill  of  delight ; 
nothing  half  so  bright  or  costly  had  been  oflcred  her  in 
the  new  life  she  had  imagined  would  be  so  rich  and  bril- 
liant. Yet  she  clung  to  it  as  hers  of  right,  the  more  firmly 
after  turning  over  and  over,  again  and  again,  the  dainty 
swaddling  clothes,  which  she  had  never  seen  before,  but 
which  she  knew  Pedro  had  yielded  to  her  as  the  sole  pos- 
sessions with  which  she  had  come  to  him,  —  i)osscssions 
useless  in  themselves,  but  invaluable  to  her  as  proofs  that 
she  came  from  no  plebeian  stock.  She  wondered  if  her 
mother  had  arrayed  her  in  them  to  cast  her  out,  —  and 
though  she  was  of  no  gentle  mould,  her  mind  revolted 
from  the  thought.  Then,  had  her  father  disowned  her ;  or 
had  an  enemy  filched  her  from  her  cradle,  and  unwilling 


li/ 


224 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


%i 


to  be  guilty  of  her  blood,  left  her  in  the  first  hands  ho 
had  encountered  ?  She  ran  over  in  her  mind  all  the  talcs 
she  had  heard  of  m^'sterious  disappearances,  —  and  they 
were  not  a  few,  —  but  none  would  fit  the  case  ;  and  surely 
a  hue-and-cry  would  have  been  made  at  the  abduction  of  a 
rich  man's  infant. 

Chinita  wrapped  up  the  clothes  and  hid  them  away  in 
impatient  despair.  Once  she  thought  of  taking  them  to 
Dona  Isabel;  but  what  would  be  gained  by  that?  That 
her  protectress  knew  the  secret  of  her  birth  she  was  con- 
vinced, not  by  any  course  of  reasoning,  but  by  the  simple 
fact  that  she  had  assumed  the  charge  of  her  as  her  light. 
The  girl  did  not  know  how  baseless  are  apt  to  be  the 
caprices  of  a  great  lady. 

The  days  passed  wearily  to  the  eager  child.  They 
would  have  been  intolerable  —  for  she  was  alwaj's  alone 
or  with  Dofia  Isabel,  who  gave  her  no  certain  status  as 
equal  or  inferior,  and  with  whom  she  was  feverishly  defi- 
ant, or  seized  with  sudden  tremors  of  awe  or  actual  fear- 
but  that  she  knew  Don  Rafael  had  gone  to  bring  his  family 
home.  She  longed  to  pour  her  secret  thoughts  into  the 
ears  of  Chata,  to  show  the  infant  clothes  and  hear  her 
comments  and  suggestions.  It  appeared  to  her  that  Chata 
would  certainl}'  penetrate  the  gloom,  and  in  her  sweet  sim- 
plicity throw  some  light  upon  the  mystery  which  enveloped 
her.  Besides,  the  wilful  girl  exulted  in  the  anticipation 
of  dazzling  the  eyes  of  Rosario  and  Dona  Rita  by  her 
connection  with  Doiia  Isabel.  She  was  shrewd  enough 
to  see  it  had  greatly  increased  her  importance  in  the  es- 
timation of  tlie  servants  and  employees.  Even  Don 
Rafael,  before  he  went  away,  had  seized  an  opportunity 
to  ask  her  whether  she  was  content,  and  afterward  had 
never  failed  to  bow  to  her  with  grave  politeness  when 
they  met. 

Once  a  strange  thought  had  been  set  in  the  child's  mind  : 
it  returned  and  vexed  her  again  and  again.  Dona  Feliz 
had  come  into  the  room  when  in  an  unusual  mood  of  devo- 
tion Chinita  had  knelt  to  pray  before  the  image  of  the 
Virgin,  before  which,  though  she  did  not  know  it,  had  been 
poured  forth  so  many  bitter  cries.  Feliz  started  as  she 
saw  her,  and  Chinita  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  Do  not  rise,"  said  Dona  Feliz ;  "  learn,  child,  to  pray. 


^any  am 

begin  thy 

"What 

more  to  dc 

nuns;  anc 

"lUitth 

a  peculiar 

"Whyn 

Then  seize 

Dona  Isab( 

"P  to  pray 

much?    Se 

his  soul  fro] 

do  it.    My 

asleep,    j  c 

go  awaj',  to 

clay,  as  the  t 

some  of  her  ^ 

born  for  sue 

not  to  pray. 

dress  saints. 

I>ona  Felii 

your  friend," 

said.    Perha] 

beautiful  tha 

have  been  hj 

"IstheSe: 

excitement  ca 

Hie  once,  —  i( 

American,  wh 

told  me  a  wit( 

murdered,  ~  j 

tlie  nina  Her 

died,  but  that 

she  could  rea( 

"The  witch 

was  a  sujDersti 

was  the  witch 

"How  can 

more  of  her  th 

slie  is  never  en 

killed  I  know 


lands  ho 
the  talcs 
and  ibcy 
id  surely 
3tion  of  a 

^  away  in 
•  tbcm  to 
it?  That 
1  was  con- 
the  simple 
her  light, 
to  be  the 

lid.    They 
fays  alone 
I  status  as 
rishly  defi- 
bual  fear— 
r  his  family 
ts  into  the 
d  hear  her 
that  Chata 
sweet  sim- 
envelopcd 
inticipation 
:ita  by  her 
|wd  enough 
in  the  es- 
JEven   Don 
jpportunity 
srward  had 
mess  when 


lild's  mind : 
[Doiia  FeUz 
lod  of  devo- 
,iage  of  the 
[t,  had  been 
ked  as  she 

kd,  to  pray. 


CI/ATA   AND    CHINITA. 


225 


Many  amcns  must  perforce  reach  Heaven ;  it  is  well  to 
begin  thy  task  young." 

"  What  task  ?  "  Chinita  queried.  ' '  I  shall  have  something 
more  to  do  than  to  pray  all  my  life.  That  is  for  saints  ancl 
nuns ;  anc'  even  Pedro  would  not  take  me  for  a  saint." 

"  IJut  thou  couldst  still  be  a  nun,"  said  Dona  Feliz,  with 
a  peculiar  sniilo  ;  "  and  why  shouldst  thou  not  be?" 

"  Why  not?"  ejaculated  Chinita.  "  Because  I  will  not ! " 
Then  seized  with  a  sudden  terror,  she  cried,  "  Is  that  why 
Dona  Isabel  has  taken  me  from  Pedro  ?  Is  it  to  shut  mo 
up  to  pray  for  her  and  the  wicked  brother  she  loved  so 
much  ?  Selsa  told  me  she  had  set  her  own  daughter  to  free 
his  soul  from  purgatory,  and  is  not  that  enough  ?  I  '11  not 
do  it.  My  knees  ache  when  I  kneel;  I  yawn,  I  fall 
asleep.  I  cannot  bear  to  be  forever  in  one  place.  It  is  to 
go  away,  to  see  strange  sights,  to  wear  silk  and  lace  every 
day,  as  the  nina  Herlinda  must  have  done,  —  see,  here  are 
some  of  her  dresses  still,  —  it  is  for  this,  and  because  I  was 
born  for  such  things,  that  I  stay  with  Dona  Isabel ;  it  is 
not  to  pray.  I  care  not  to  pray,  nor  sing  hymns,  nor 
dress  saints.     I  will  go  to  her  and  tell  her  so ! " 

Dona  Feliz  caught  the  arm  of  the  excited  child.  "  I  am 
your  friend,"  she  said.  "  Speak  not  a  word  of  what  I  have 
said.  Perhaps  it  was  a  foolish  thought ;  but  many  more 
beautiful  than  you  have  entered  convents,  and  perhaps 
have  been  happy." 

"  Is  the  Senorita  Herlinda  happy  ?  "  asked  Chinita,  her 
excitement  calmed  by  the  thought  of  another-  "  Selsa  told 
me  once,  —  it  was  the  night  Antonita  saw  thv'^  ghost  of  the 
American,  when  she  came  back  from  the  mounlam, —  Selsa 
told  me  a  witch  had  laid  a  spell  upon  her  the  da}'  he  was 
murdered,  —  a  witch  who  loved  the  foreigner;  and  that 
tlie  nina  Herlinda  drooped  and  withered  and  would  have 
lUed,  but  that  a  fever  carried  awaj'  the  evil  womau  before 
she  could  read  her  into  her  grave." 

"The  witch!"  ejaculated  Dona  Feliz,  mystified.  This 
was  a  superstition  of  which  she  had  heard  nothing.  "  Who 
was  the  witch?" 

"  How  can  I  tell?  "  answered  Chinita.  *'  Chata  knows 
more  of  her  than  I.  It  is  to  her  old  Selsa  told  her  talcs ; 
she  is  never  cross  to  Chata.  But  after  the  American  was 
killed  I  know  the  witch  used  to  read  and  read  and  read 

15 


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iHJ 

W\ 

t     m 

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11' 

|; 

;!'    ' 

'•'    \ 

I 

\.:. 

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1,1)  -  ■ 

t\ 

ii; 

:.■'  ■  1 

lit 

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ii!  . 

r\ 

Ill 

.'.'  !'. 

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226 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


'•/ffi*^' 


i    :   I    • 


■'  ':  ■  M, 


strange  words  to  the  poor  w»«a,  and  she  grew  paler  and 
paler,  and  more  and  more  sad." 

"And  the  witch  died?"  queried  Feliz,  thinking  of 
Mademoiselle  La  Croix. 

"  Yes,  in  a  good  hour,"  answered  Chinita,  energetically'. 
"But  I  forgot;  you  must  know  it  all,  Doiia  Feliz.  Tell 
me,"  —  with  her  old  gossiping  habit,  —  "tell  me,  did  the 
Senorita  love  the  American?  Was  it  for  him  she  pined 
away ;  or  because  she  was  bewitched ;  or  was  it  because 
the  Senora  would  not  let  her  marry  the  Seiior  Gonzales, 
but  would  send  her  to  the  convent  to  pray  for  the  wicked 
Don  Leon?" 

"  Quien  sabe?  Who  knows?"  answered  Dofia  Feliz, 
in  the  non-committal  phrase  a  Mexican  finds  so  conven- 
ient. "  It  is  not  for  us  to  chatter  of  the  Senorita  Hcrlinda. 
Peace  be  with  her !  and  have  a  care  how  you  mention 
her  name  to  Dofia  Isabel."  Her  brow  contracted  as  she 
thought  how  many  conjectures,  how  much  gossip  of  which 
she  had  known  nothing,  had  been  busy  with  events  she 
had  believed  quite  passed  from  remembrance. 


ASIILE 

not  eatin 
or  more 
fectly  we 
J^'een  pro] 
he  had  b( 
though  le] 
vided  witl 
knowledge 
know  were 
l>ona  Isab 
and  in  her 
in  the  pur 
inquire  aft( 
entered  to 
never  ton.cl 
him  ^hen  s 
him  he  inw 
cienda  on  t 
exertion.    ; 
had  sapped 
of  securing 
prisoner.     , 
would  fall  i 
solve  never 
were  set  at 
more  perple 
The  nurse 
dian  peasant 
constantly  ii 
some  trust,  j 
the  mere  coi 
fel^  herself  oi 
tence  with  tl; 
and  to  be  pre 


X  Feliz, 
convcn- 
[dlinda. 
mention 
Li  as  she 
3f  which 
cnts  she 


XXVI. 

Ashley  Ward  had  been,  an  invohintary  though  perhaps 
not  entirely  an  unwilhng  guest,  at  Tres  Ilermanos  a  month 
or  more  before  it  dawned  upon  him  that  he  was  not  a  per- 
fectly welcome  one.  Throughout  his  illness,  which  had 
been  prolonged  by  the  peculiar  nursing  and  diet  to  which 
he  had  been  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  subjected,  he  had, 
though  left  almost  entirely  to  the  care  of  Sclsa,  been  pro- 
vided with  luxuries  and  delicacies  that  even  his  imperfect 
knowledge  of  the  country  and  situation  enabled  him  to 
know  were  rare  and  costly,  and  most  dilHcult  to  obtain. 
Dona  Isabel  Garcia  was  like  a  princess  in  her  quiet  dignity 
and  in  her  gifts  ;  and  like  a  princess  too,  he  grew  to  think, 
in  the  punctiliousness  with  which,  every  day,  she  sent  to 
inquire  after  his  health,  and  the  infrcquency  with  which  she 
entered  to  express  a  hope  that  he  lacked  nothing.  She 
never  tou.ched  his  hand,  seldom  indeed  turned  her  eyes  upon 
him  when  she  spoke,  and  never  smiled ;  and  when  she  left 
him  he  inwardly  raged,  and  vowed  he  would  leave  the  ha- 
cienda on  the  morrow,  even  though  he  should  die  from  the 
exertion.  But  his  wound  was  slow  in  healing ;  the  fever 
had  sapped  his  strength ;  he  was  alone,  and  no  opportunity 
of  securing  escort  presented  itself.  He  was  virtually  a 
prisoner.  And  besides,  after  these  periods  of  vexation  he 
would  fall  into  a  fit  of  musing,  which  would  end  in  the  re- 
solve never  to  leave  Tres  Hermanos  until  certain  doubts 
were  set  at  rest,  which  from  day  to  day  grew  more  and 
more  perplexing. 

The  nurse,  Selsa,  was  more  communicative  than  the  In- 
dian peasant  woman  is  apt  to  be.  She  had  been  employed 
constantly  in  and  about  the  great  house  in  positions  of 
some  trust,  and  had  lost  thn  t  awe  of  superiors,  which  held 
the  mere  common  people  dumb.  In  a  sense,  indeed,  she 
felt  herself  one  of  the  family,  privileged  to  use  gentle  insis- 
tence with  the  sick,  even  against  their  aristocratic  wills, 
and  to  be  present,  though  eyes  and  ears  were  to  be  as  blind 


..." 

ill.  I 


III 


ii  i; 


Iff-' 


228 


CHATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


\l:\ 


I 

III  I 


and  deaf  as  the  walls  around  her,  while  matters  of  family 
polity  were  at  least  hinted  at,  if  not  openly  discussed.  She 
had  in  fact  been  to  the  house  of  Garcia  "  the  confidential 
servant,"  without  which  no  Mexican  household  is  com- 
plete, —  one  of  those  peculiar  beings  who  however  falso, 
cruel,  deceitful,  and  thievish  with  the  world  in  general  is 
silent  as  the  grave,  devoted  even  unto  death,  true  as  tlie 
lode-star,  to  the  person  or  family  which  she  serves. 

There  was  something  in  the  personality  of  this  wrinkled 
crone,  growing  out  of  these  relations,  which  early  impressed 
the  young  American ;  and  gradually  he  grew  to  feel  that 
he  was  face  to  face  with  an  oracle,  had  he  but  the  magic 
to  unseal  her  lips,  as  the  witch-like  Chinita  had  had  to 
change  her  air  of  vexed  though  friendly  equality  into  unob- 
trusive yet  unmistakable  deference.  Other  servants  who 
came  and  went  spoke  with  some  envy  and  spite  of  the  sud- 
den elevat'.on  of  the  gatekeeper's  foster-child.  But  Selsa, 
sitting  in  the  doorway  of  the  sick  man's  room,  combing 
out  her  long  black  locks,  —  for  that,  though  she  never  suc- 
ceeded in  smoothing  them,  was  her  favorite  occupation, — 
would  glance  askance  at  Ward  and  say,  — 

"Be  silent!  the  Seiiora  knows  what  she  does.  Go 
now !  she  has  a  heart  like  any  other  Christian.  What  was 
to  become  of  the  girl,  now  that  Pedro  will  be  leaving  for 
the  wars?  Would  you  have  Don  'Guardo  think  we  are 
barbarians  here,  who  would  leave  the  innocents  to  be  de- 
voured like  lambs  by  the  coyotes?" 

Don  'Guardo  was  the  name  Selsa  had  evolved  from 
Ward,  which  she  had  perhaps  believed  to  be  the  foreign 
contraction  of  Eduardo ;  and  as  Ashley,  with  boyish  en- 
thusiasm easily  acquiring  the  limited  vocabulary  of  those 
around  him,  began  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  his  convales- 
cence by  listening  to  their  conversations,  and  asking  some 
idle  questions,  he  found  himself  answering  to  the  conve- 
nient appellation  and  alluding  to  himself  by  it,  until  it  be- 
came as  familiar  to  his  ears  as  his  own  baptismal  name, 
and  certainly  conveyed  far  more  friendliness  to  him  than 
the  formal  Senor  Ward,  which  Don  Rafael  and  his  mother 
rendered  with  infinite  stumbling  over  the  unattainable  W. 

There  was  a  subdued  excitement  throughout  the  hacienda 
upon  the  day  that  Don  'Guardo  first  appeared  at  the  great 
gateway.     Pedro  was  sitting  there  in  the  dull,  dejected 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


229 


manner  suggestive  of  loss,  or  waiting,  or  both ;  and  it  was 
only  when  Florencia,  with  an  exclamation,  twitched  his 
sleeve  that  he  looked  up. 

''^  Maria  Sanctissi7na!'*  he  stammered,  staggering  to  his 
feet.  Ashley  stood  in  the  dim  light  in  the  rear  of  the  deep 
vestibule,  with  his  hand  on  Pep*;'s  shoulder,  —  for  the  boy 
had  been  called  to  attend  him,  —  but  with  a  sudden  faint- 
noss  he  had  paused  to  rest  against  the  stone  wall  hung  with 
serpents.  Ashley  was  a  handsome  youth,  but  in  Pedro's 
eyes  a  thousand  times  more  startling  than  the  most  hideou 
snake  or  savage  beast.  So  had  he  seen  John  Ashley  stand 
a  hundred  times  or  more,  not  pale  and  trembling,  but  full 
of  life  and  jo}'.  Was  this  his  sad  ghost,  come  with  re- 
proachful eyes  to  haunt  him? 

"  It  is  the  Sefior  American,"  said  Florencia.  "  My  life  ! 
how  pale  he  looks!  ,Go,  go,  Pepito!  bring  him  hither 
before  the  carriage  of  my  Senora  drives  in ;  here  it  is  at 
the  very  gate." 

Pedro  instantlj^  recovered  his  usual  stoicism.  "Wait, 
Seiior!"  he  said,  "jou  are  well  placed  where  you  are. 
The  carriage  can  pass  and  not  throw  an  atom  of  dust  on 
you."  And  at  that  moment  the  feet  of  the  horses  and  the 
rattle  of  wheels  were  heard  on  the  stone  paving,  and  the 
hacienda  carriage  was  driven  rapidly  into  the  courtyard. 
As  it  passed,  Ashley  caught  a  glimpse  of  Dofia  Isabel  — 
how  pale  and  statuesque !  —  and  beside  her  a  creature 
radiant  in  triumph,  who  nodded  to  Pedro  as  she  passed ; 
her  smile  seeming  to  sa}',  "  Behold  me  !"  Hers  was  not 
an  ignoble  pride,  but  the  wild  exultation  of  an  eaglet  that 
had  been  chained  to  earth,  and  for  the  first  time  had  tried 
its  wings  in  the  empyrean.  That  morning  Dona  Isabel 
had  said,  "  Chinita,  thou  shalt  go  with  me ; "  and  though 
the  lady's  brows  had  risen  a  little  when  with  unconscious 
audacity  the  girl  had  taken  the  seat  beside  her,  and  not 
that  opposite,  where  Doiia  Feliz  was  wont  to  sit,  she  said 
nothing.  "The  child  is  pale,"  she  thought,  "and  needs 
the  air ;  there  is  no  one  to  heed  that  she  sits  beside  me." 

It  would  be  hard  to  tell  what  were  the  thoughts  of  Chi- 
nita ;  they  were  a  sudden  delirium  after  the  intense  quiet  of 
the  semi-imprisonment,  whicli  she  had  borne  with  stoical 
fortitude  for  the  sake  of  a  dimly  seen  future  of  power.  In 
this  enforced  quiet,  day  by  day,  her  ambitions  were  shaj>ing 


{.I    \% 


230 


CHATA   AND   ClflNITA. 


W  i 


I  '  " 


themselves ;  the  dominant  passion  of  her  being  was  seek- 
ing a  point  from  wliich  she  might  have  advantage  over  all 
tlie  narrow  field  within  the  range  of  her  mental  vision. 
As  yet  her  aspirations  knew  no  name ;  they  were  mere 
vague,  impatient  longings,  or  rather  impatient  spurning  of 
the  old  ignoble  conditions  of  life.  To  ride  in  a  carriage 
was  an  intoxication  to  her,  because  the  low-born  peasant 
went  afoot.  She  chafed  in  a  very  thraldom  of  inaction 
because  the  high-born  toiled  not.  She  loved  the  rustle  of 
a  gaudy  silk,  while  her  hand  shrank  from  the  contact  of 
the  stiff  and  rustUng  fabric,  because  such  attire  was  only 
for  the  rich  and  <|reat.  As  undefined  as  had  been  the  joy 
with  which  she  had  heard  she  was  a  Garcia,  was  still  the 
delight  of  each  fresh  conquest  that  she  made.  No  eager 
virtuoso  groping  in  the  dark  among  undescribcd  treasures 
could  be  more  ignorant  j'et  more  wildly  anticipotive  of  the 
glories  the  daylight  should  discover  than  she  of  what  the 
future  should  reveal. 

From  where  Don  'Guardo  and  his  o  ^^rndant  stood,  they 
could  see  Doiia  Isabel  and  Chinita  as  iLioy  descended  from 
the  carriage.  Dofia  Isabel,  without  glancing  around,  as- 
cended the  stairs  to  her  own  apartment.  Chinita  followed 
a  step  or  two  behind,  then  turned  and  paused.  Her  quick 
eye  scanned  the  little  group  that  had  gathered  in  the  court. 
Ashley  Ward  himself  was  startled  bj'  the  change  that  had 
passed  over  her  since  he  had  seen  her  last.  What  had 
been  elfish  in  her  wild  abandonment  of  bearing  had  be- 
come a  subtle  grace  of  manner,  which  gave  piquancy  to  a 
hauteur  that  counterfeited  the  dignity  of  inherent  noble- 
ness. "The  gypsy  has  borrowed  the  air  of  a  queen  !" 
was  tiic  thougTit  of  the  American.  He  felt  Pepe  quiver 
beneath  his  hand,  and  looking  at  him  saw  a  sullen  fire 
111  ills  dark,  slumberous  eyes,  tliough  his  lips  were  white 
and  his  dusky  face  ashen  as  if  a  chill  had  seized  him. 
The  girl  had  overlooked  him  and  all  the  plebeian  crowd, 
and  her  eyes  rested  in  a  triumphant  challenge  on  Ashley. 
She  smiled,  and  a  ray  of  sunlight  darted  down  and  rcd- 
<Iened  the  crisp  and  straggling  tendrils  of  her  hair.  The 
smile  or  the  sunlight  dazzled  him  ;  he  leaned  heavier  on 
repii's  shoulder.  She  reminded  him  of  a  Medusa  ideal- 
ized, of  incarnate  passion  surrounded  by  the  halo  of 
radiant  youth. 


Ash 
had  to. 
tlirown 
grief  a: 
iiis  sho 
nierc  si 
the  sou 

"P0( 

with  liij 

t'oinedy, 

so  dainl 

rest;  I 

words,  c 

build  a  w 

These 

stant,  — . 

the  stone 

and  Pepe 

Ashley  s.i 

to  sit,  am 

J^oth  look 

the  narro 

which  mar 

a  waste  o 

still  to  the 

ot*  purple  j 

scene  to  1' 

tract  for  a 

it  in  a  sort 

world  wouL 

sonment;  I 

the  broad  e 

lation  to  hii 

which  in  hi 

never  cncou 

horrors  of  \i 

tlie  land  an 

that  had  esc 

months,  and 

^or  a  time 

at  first  almoi 

certain  landu 


cck- 
;r  ull 
Bion. 
mere 
ngof 
•riage 
asant 
iction 
itle  of 
act  of 
3  only 
lie  joy 
All  the 
)  eager 
jasures 
5  of  tlic 
hat  the 

.d,  they 
cd  from 
diid,  as- 
bllowed 
er  quick 
ic  court. 
Lhat  had 
[hat  had 
Ihad  bc- 

icy  to  a 
noble- 

ueen  l 
quiver 

iUen  fire 

:c  white 

led  hiiu- 
crowd, 

Ashley, 
ind  rod- 
ir.     The 
lavier  on 
\vL  idcal- 
Ihalo  of 


CI/ATA   AND  CiriNITA. 


231 


Ashley  was  roused  by  a  sudden  movement  of  Pcp(j,  who 
had  for  the  moment  forgotten  his  station,  and  impetuously 
tlu'own  himself  upon  a  bench  in  an  attitude  of  impotent 
grief  and  rage ;  then  he  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  again  placed 
Ills  shoulder  under  Ashley's  hand.  Once  more  he  was  the 
mere  stock  and  stick ;  but  Ashley  had  discovered  in  him 
the  soul  and  heart  of  a  man. 

"  Poor  fool !  "  he  thought,  with  a  sort  of  anger  mingled 
with  his  pity  ;  "  here  is  a  touch  of  the  tragic  in  this  little 
comedy,  which  the  wily  little  peasant  is  inspired  to  play 
so  daintily.  She  appears  to  have  bewitched  me  with  the 
rest;  I  can't  keep  the  thought  of  her,  or  ratlier  of  her 
words,  out  of  my  head,  —  and  j'ct  I  have  only  a  word  to 
build  a  whole  fabric  of  theory  upon." 

These  thoughts  had  passed  through  his  mind  in  an  in- 
stant, —  the  instant  in  which  Chinita  had  lightly  run  up 
the  stone  steps  after  Dofia  Isabel,  and  in  which  Ashley 
and  Pepe  had  reached  the  broad  gateway  of  the  hacienda. 
Ashlc}'  sank  upon  the  stone  bench  where  Pedro  was  wont 
to  sit,  and  Pepe  leaned  sullenly  against  the  rough  wall. 
Both  looked  in  silence  over  the  village,  across  the  fields, 
the  narrow  line  of  cottonwood  trees  and  yellow  mud 
which  marked  the  bed  of  a  torrent  in  the  rainy  season  and 
a  waste  of  desolation  in  the  long  drought,  and  onward 
still  to  the  gray  and  barren  mountains  whose  distant  peaks 
of  purple  pierced  the  deep  blue  of  the  cloudless  sk3\  Tlie 
scene  to  Pepe  was  as  old  as  his  years,  too  familiar  to  dis- 
tract for  a  moment  his  tortured  mind ;  but  Ashlev  beheld 
it  in  a  sort  of  rapture.  Perhaps  any  glimpse  of  the  outer 
world  would  have  charmed  him  after  his  unwonted  impri- 
sonment ;  but  the  fertility  of  the  valley,  this  gem  set  in 
the  broad  expanse  of  bare  ■  .id  sterile  Mexico,  was  a  reve- 
lation to  him  of  that  wonderful  productiveness  and  beauty 
which  in  his  journeyings  he  had  often  heard  of  but  had 
never  encountered,  until  at  last  he  had  believed  that  the 
horrors  of  war,  in  its  years  of  duration,  had  swept  over 
the  land  and  blasted  it.  But  here  was  one  spot  at  least 
that  had  escaped,  —  such  a  spot  as  he  had  pictured  for 
months,  and  sought  in  vain. 

For  a  time  he  gazed  upon  it  in  simple  admiration,  then 
at  first  almost  unconsciously  began  to  look  about  him  for 
certain  landmarks.     Yes,  here  at  his  back  was  the  great 


I'liii 


!i1 


"•Mi 


232 


CIIATA   AND   ClIINITA. 


•■        ':>>''■'■=( 


h     I 


l)ilG  of  buildings ;  hero  on  the  sandy  slope  in  front,  the 
village  of  adobe  thatched  with  knife-grass ;  there  along 
the  line  of  the  watercourse,  the  few  straggling  huts  of  the 
miners  and  laborers  ;  there  away  to  the  right,  the  low  walls 
of  the  reduction-works  with  its  tall  brick  chinniey,  and  in 
its  rear  the  gaping  clell  of  the  mountain  which  marked  tiie 
entrance  to  the  mine.  All  now  was  silent  and  deserted  ; 
yet  for  a  moment  he  seemed  to  look  upon  it  with  other 
eyes,  and  to  sec  tiie  trains  of  laden  nmlcs  filing  in  and  out 
of  the  wide  gateways,  and  to  trace  tlie  black  smoke  rising 
in  a  column  to  the  cloudless  sky.  "This  must  be  the 
place !  "  he  inwardly  exclaimed ;  and  drawing  from  his 
breast-pocket  a  Hat  case  of  papers,  he  selected  from  them 
a  torn  and  j'ellow  letter,  and  read  it  slowly  over,  ever  and 
anon  raising  his  eyes  to  identify  some  point  in  the  de- 
scription, which  a  hand  as  young,  more  firm,  more  reso- 
lute than  his  own,  had  in  an  hour  of  leisure  so  accumtely 
written  years  before.  The  date  of  the  missive  was  gone, 
and  with  it  the  name  of  this  new  place  in  which  the  writer 
seemed  to  have  found  an  earthly  paradise,  —  "  not  want- 
ing," as  he  said  at  the  close  of  the  letter,  "  an  Eve  to  be  at 
once  the  gem  of  this  perfect  setting,  and  the  inaccessible 
star  to  wliicli  poor  mortals  may  raise  longing  eyes,  but 
may  never  hope  to  win." 

Ashley  smiled  as  he  read  the  words.  Who  could  this 
divinity  have  been  ?  But  for  other  letters  that  had  been 
put  into  his  hands  ho  would  have  thought  the  paragraph 
mere  bathos,  boyish  gush,  and  sentiment;  but  it  was  a 
prelude  to  what  might  prove  a  strange  and  fateful  series 
of  events.  Somewhere  here  his  cousin  had  years  ago  lived 
and  loved  and  been  done  to  death ;  and  his  mission  was 
to  trace  the  sequence  of  these  events,  and  to  learn 
whether  or  no  with  John  Ashley'  had  passed  away  all 
possible  influence  upon  the  fortunes  of  his  own  life. 

Until  within  a  few  months  such  questions  had  never 
occurred  to  him.  The  John  Ashley  whom  he  had  dimly 
remembered  had  been  murdered  years  before  ;  and  so  had 
ended  an  adventurous  career,  which  had  been  his  own 
clioice,  or  perhaps  his  evil  destiny.  To  Ward,  as  to  others, 
that  had  been  the  sum  and  substance  of  the  tragedy 
which  had  thrown  a  gloom  for  a  time  over  all  the  family, 
and  had  stricken  a  proud  mother  to  the  heart.     She  had 


sufTercc 
never  |] 
with  no 
she  whc 
and  ent 
AsJdey'i 
tliat  woi 
for  the  T^ 
iiis  last ; 
in  beJiali 
tlie  confl 
HerJinda 
name  rin 
could  mj 
of  those 
lint  wha-t 
who  has  r 
"  The  1 
W^ard  ha( 
feared  cot 
misery." 

"I' don 
fs  a  wild  c 
investigate 
any  dangci 
fear  in  my 
'i'lie  idea 
mere  possi 
which,  as  t] 
»iore  pain 
worked  upc 
sudden  Ij',  — 
profited  by  i 
%  his  aunt' 
Pcrty  that  . 
"eitiier  he  nc 
r*eople  sh 
"J*oor  soul, 
'rhe  news 
tliG  war  had 
fai*  from  exa( 
inquiries  had 


i 


en  ATA  AND   CHINITA. 


233 


tlio 
long 
'  the 
(valls 
;k1  in 

a  i\ic 

itcd ; 
other 
il  out 
rising 
ic  the 
m  his 
I  them 
er  and 
lie  tle- 
B  reso- 
iii-ately 
J  gone, 
J  -writer 
t  -want- 
to  be  at 
ccssible 
C8,  but 

Id  this 
id  been 
•agraph 
-was  a 
.  scries 
go  lived 
ion  was 
learn 
way  all 
life. 

cl  never 

dimly 

so  had 

[lis  own 

.  others, 

tragedy 

family, 
She  had 


sulfered  years  in  silence,  the  name  of  her  wayward  son 
never  passing  her  lips  ;  her  young  daughter  had  grown  up 
witli  no  knowledge  of  her  brother  but  his  name.  It  was 
she  who  after  the  mother's  death  had  found  these  letters, 
and  entreated  her  cousin  to  seek  the  fatal  spot  of  John 
Ashley's  death,  —  surely  there  must  be  somewhere  records 
that  would  give  the  exact  location,  —  and  to  make  inquiries 
for  the  wife,  and  for  the  possible  child,  of  whom  he  wrote  in 
liis  last  short  letter,  full  of  passionate  appeal  to  his  mother 
in  behalf  of  the  young  creature  who  for  him  had  forfeited 
the  confidence,  perhaps  the  love,  of  her  own.  "  Herlinda  I 
Herlinda !  Herlinda ! "  was  the  burden  of  the  letter.  "  The 
name  rings  in  my  ears,"  Mary  Ashley  had  said.  *'  How 
could  my  mother  have  been  deaf  to  it?  She  thought 
of  those  people  as  barbarous,  false,  cruel,  treacherous. 
But  wha-t  matters  that  to  me,  if  there  is  among  them  one 
who  has  my  brother's  blood,  or  one  who  loved  him  ?  " 

"  The  marriage  laws  of  those  countries  are  strange,'* 
Ward  had  ventured  to  sa}'.  "Perhaps  3'our  mother 
feared  complications  which  could  but  bring  disgrace  and 
misery." 

"1  do  not  fear  them,"  said  Mary  Ashley,  proudly.  "  It 
is  a  wild  country  for  a  woman  to  go  to,  but  if  you  will  not 
investigate  this  matter,  I  will  brave  any  inconvenience, 
any  danger,  io  do  so.  I  cannot  live  with  this  tantalizing 
fear  m  my  heart." 

The  idea  that  tormented  Mary  seemed  at  best  that  of  a 
mere  possibility  to  Ashley,  —  the  possibility  of  an  event 
which,  as  the  mother  had  seen,  might  if  proved  bring  far 
more  pain  than  joy,  especially  at  this  late  date ;  yet  it 
worked  upon  his  mind  gradually,  as  it  had  upon  Mary's 
suddenly,  —  perhaps  the  more  surely  because  he  personally 
profited  by  the  supposition  that  his  cousin  had  died  unwed. 
By  his  aunt's  will  he  had  been  left  the  share  in  her  pro- 
perty that  John  would  have  inherited,  on  condition  that 
neither  he  nor  any  legitimate  heir  should  appear  to  claim  it. 

People  shrugged  their  shoulders  and  smiled  pityingly. 
"  Poor  soul,  had  she  then  doubted  her  son's  death?  " 

The  news  had  reached  Mrs.  Ashle}'  in  an  irregular  way  ; 
the  war  had  supervened,  and  particulars  had  been  few  and 
far  from  exact.  "But  later,  tlirough  some  business  house, 
inquiries  had  been  made  and  some  few  books  and  almost 


W 


|I«"'M 


Sll  i 


Ji'      ii 


-:■     ii 


234 


CI/ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


>! 


I- 


worthless  articles  of  clothing  had  been  obtained  from  an 
alcalde,  who  swore  they  had  been  the  dead  man's  sole 
cH'ects.  Certainl}'  the  proofs  had  been  irregular  but  sulll- 
cient.  What  could  one  expect  from  such  a  lawless  set  of 
uncivihzed  renegades,  who  knew  nothing  of  civil  or  inter- 
national law,  and  were  bent  on  the  sole  task  of  extermin- 
ating one  another?  They  smiled  at  the  condition  in  the 
will,  and  pitied  the  poor  woman  who  could  thus  hope 
against  hope.  Ashley  Ward  himself,  the  orphan  nephew 
whom  his  aunt  had  loved  with  a  jealous  devotion,  which  at 
times  wearied  him  by  its  suspicions  and  exactions,  at  llrst 
smiled  also.  But  when  Mary  brought  to  him  the  frag- 
ments of  three  old  letters  to  read,  just  as  his  mind  was 
filled  with  plans  for  a  career  which  the  possession  of 
ample  wealth  and  leisure  seemed  to  justify',  and  which  in 
poverty  he  could  never  have  dared  aspire  to,  he  grew 
thoughtful,  moody  at  times,  —  then  suddenly  his  own 
impetuous,  generous  self  again. 

"  I  will  go  to  Mexico,  Mary,"  he  said,  "  and  bring  j'ou 
word  of  your  brother's  life  there.  No  doubts  shall  shake 
their  spectre  fingers  at  me  in  m}'  prosperity,  nor  torment 
your  loving  and  anxious  soul." 

"  Good,  true  cousin !  "  was  all  she  answered.  She  per- 
haps did  not  realize  what  eflfcct  upon  the  prospects  of 
Ashle}'^  the  results  of  this  journey  might  possibly  have ; 
the}'  dawned  upon  her  little  by  little  as  the  days  went  by 
and  no  news  came  of  him. 

The  daring  traveller  had  been  obliged  to  enter  Mexico 
at  some  obscure  point.  The  Liberal  government  under 
Juarez  was  Installed  at  Vera  Cruz  ;  the  Conservatives  held 
the  City  of  Mexico ;  and  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
country  was  in  a  state  of  riot  and  ferment,  torn  and 
devastated  by  roving  bands  who  changed  their  politics  as 
readily  as  their  encampments.  Ashley's  journey  through 
the  Republic  was  like  a  passage  over  smouldering  coals 
between  two  fires,  and  constant  address  and  fearlessness 
were  required  to  avoid  collision  with  either  faction,  —  his 
ignorance  of  the  language  and  causes  of  contention  per- 
haps serving  him  a  good  turn  in  making  natural  the  in- 
(litf'crence  and  absolute  impartiality  which  he  could  never 
so  successfully  have  assumed  had  his' sympathies  been 
ever  so  slightly  biassed. 


In  th( 

hopeless 

alien  wh 

before. 

and  mod 

uno/lluial 

the  Mexi 

Ashley 

dllllcultie 

knowledg 

name  of 

visited,  r< 

isolated  a 

seemed  in 

"Jgs,  offer 

pen  of  his 

abandonee 

but  for  a 

neither  nei 

was  mentii 

craploymei 

distant  ha 

covered,  w 

ever,  to  h 

make  it  wo 

of  precious 

with  recorc 

been  perfo] 

The  trip 

bad  state  c 

a«id  with  bu 

aries  of  the 

American  a 

savage  Jmm 

redoubtable 

rather  lieavi 

to  ride  in  } 

Knglish,  th( 

that  the  you 

fact  a  priso 

exchanging  j 

tlie  dashinji 


1 


1  .    .  ',,  :,    ■ 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


235 


nnin- 
in  the 
hope 
jphcw 
lich  at 
it  iU'st 
i  frag- 
d  was 
ion  of 
liieh  ill 
}  grew 
L3   owu 

ng  you 
1  shake 
torment 

»hc  pcr- 
)ects  of 
have ; 
^cnt  by 


|0" 


In  the  distracted  state  of  the  country  it  was  ahnost  a 
hopeless  task  to  endeavor  to  trace  the  movements  of  an 
alien  who  had  lived  in  it  but  a  short  time,  and  that  years 
before.  If  any  record  had  been  made  of  the  exact  place 
and  mode  of  John  Ashley's  death,  it  certainly  had  been 
unollicial,  and  retained  no  place  in  the  archives  of  cither 
the  Mexican  or  American  government. 

Ashley  Ward  was  at  first  appalled  by  the  unexpected 
dilllculties  that  he  encountered.  Inquiries  brought  to  his 
knowledge  the  existence  of  several  haciendas  bearing  the 
name  of  Los  Tres  Hermanos ;  and  these  he  successively 
visited,  reserving  to  the  last  that  which  lay  in  the  most 
isolated  and  mountain-begirt  district,  —  a  point  which  it 
seemed  impossible  could,  amid  wild  and  sterile  surround- 
ings, offer  the  panorama  of  beauty  and  fertility  which  the 
pen  of  his  cousin  had  described.  He  would  perhaps  have 
abandoned  his  search,  at  least  for  that  unpropitious  time, 
but  for  a  re-perusal  of  the  first  letter  which  contained 
neither  news  nor  descriptions  of  importance,  but  in  which 
was  mentionc(i  the  fact  that  the  writer  had  been  offered 
employment  by  the  family  of  Garcia.  The  owners  of  the 
distant  hacienda  of  Tres  Hermanos,  Ashley  Ward  dis- 
covered, were  called  Garcia,  —  a  name  too  common,  how- 
ever, to  be  any  proof  of  identity,  yet  which  seemed  to 
make  it  worth  his  while  to  spend  another  month  or  more 
of  precious  time  in  the  search,  which  in  another  country, 
with  records  of  average  exactness,  would  perhaps  have 
been  performed  in  one  or  two  days. 

The  trip  had  been  made  as  quickly  as  the  excessively 
bad  state  of  the  roads  at  the  rainy  season  would  allow, 
and  with  but  few  divergences  and  delays  •,  and  the  bound- 
aries of  the  estate  had  been  already  passe*.!  when  the  young 
American  and  his  servant  were,  in  a  merry  rather  than  a 
savage  humor,  detained  or  rather  actually  captured  by  the 
redoubtable  Calvo,  who  to  amuse  the  leisure  that  hung 
rather  heavily  upon  his  hands  invited  the  3'oung  American 
to  ride  in  his  company.  In  his  broken  but  expressive 
English,  the  frcebootar  uttered  such  courteous  phrases 
that  the  yoimg  man  was  quite  unconscious  that  he  was  in 
fact  a  prisoner,  and  passed  a  not  uninteresting  day  in 
exchanging  political  opinions,  local  and  international,  with 
the  dashing  chieftain,  —  wlio,  while  apparently  absorbed 


s  V 


iit*^ 


illlil 


I 


I 


ml 

m 
m 


liili; 


Vi  I 


lilt 


230 


CI/ATA   AND   ClflNlTA. 


in  the  novelty  and  pleasure  of  listening  to  the  conversa- 
tion of  liis  involuntary  guest,  was  mentally  preparing  the 
Bi)eecU  in  which  he  should  convey  to  hiui  on  the  morrow 
the  terms  of  ransom  for  himself  and  servant, — a  likely 
fellow  whom  Calvo  had  more  than  half  a  mind  to  add  to 
the  number  of  his  followers. 

But  the  servant  himself  had  no  illusions  as  to  the  glory 
of  fighting  or  the  chances  of  booty,  and  sometime  during 
the  night  in  which  they  were  encampeil  at  the  ranchito  of 
Kl  Refugio  managed  to  elude  the  lax  watchfulness  of 
the  troop,  who  had  made  a  merry  meal  on  freshly  killed 
lambs  and  such  other  modest  viands  as  Dona  Isabel  Gar- 
cia's  trembling  shepherds  could  furnish,  and  without  so 
much  as  a  word  of  warning  to  the  American  had  escaped, 
—  bearing  with  him  the  small  bag  of  necessaries  of  which 
he  had  charge,  a  pair  of  silver-mounted  pistols,  and  a  sum 
of  money  wliich  Ward  had  been  assured  would  in  case  of 
attack  and  capture  be  more  secure  in  the  possession  of 
this  "  loyal  and  honest  man  "  than  in  his  own. 

Ashley  had  barely  had  time  to  realize  the  defection 
of  his  servant,  to  suspect  his  actual  position  as  a  pris- 
oner in  the  hands  of  the  courteous  but  mercenary  and 
implacable  Calvo,  and  wrathfully  to  regret  the  ignorant 
trustfulness  with  which  he  had  divided  with  the  nuich 
lauded  servant  the  risk  of  transporting  his  funds,  retaining 
in  his  own  hands  perhaps  not  enough  to  meet  the  rapa- 
cious demands  of  his  captors,  when  suddenly  his  medita- 
tions were  interrupted  by  cries  of  confusion,  shouts,  the 
crack  of  rifles,  the  whizzing  of  balls,  challenges  and  deliant 
3'eils,  the  shrieks  of  women,  and  the  groans  and  appeals  of 
the  helpless  shepherds,  —  followed  by  the  sight  of  huts 
ablaze,  of  frightened  flocks  wildly  bleating  and  rushing 
bliiidl}'  under  the  ver}'  feet  of  the  horses,  which  trampled 
tiiem  down,  while  their  keepers,  as  bewildered  as  they,  fell 
victims  to  the  mad  zeal  and  excitement  of  the  opposing 
troops  who  had  so  uncxpcctedl}'  met  on  that  isolated 
spot. 

It  was  conjectured  that  the  missing  servant  had  in  his 
ilight  to  the  mountains  accidental!}'  come  upon  the  soldiers 
of  the  Clergy,  and  to  turn  attention  from  himself  had  be- 
trayed the  proximity  of  the  Liberals.  A  hurried  march  in 
the  early  morning  hours  had  proved  the  truth  of  the  ser- 


CIIATA   AND   ClllNlTA. 


237 


vant's  information  ;  and  the  snrpriao  and  some  advaniajjo 
in  niiinbers — for  tho  Captain  Alva  had  Hpokon  witli  a  tracts 
of  the  usual  exaggeration  of  tlic  speech  of  his  countrymen, 
in  deacribing  tho  enemy  as  numbering  three  hundred  — 
turiKid  tlie  chances  in  favor  of  tlie  attacikiiig  part}' ;  al- 
thougli  (y'alvo  at  fust  seemed  inclined  to(H)ntest  the  matter 
ol»stinately,  and  Ward,  with  an  invohmtary  feeling  of 
fealty  to  his  host  (though  he  had  already'  some  inkling  of 
his  intcuitions  in  regard  to  himself)  had  ranged  himsi-lf 
upon  his  side,  lie  soon  saw  with  indignation,  however, 
that  the  defence  of  the  poor  villagers  held  no  part  in 
Cairo's  thoughts.  To  frustrate  some  movement  of  tho 
enemy,  ho  actually  ordered  the  firing  of  a  hut  in  which 
women  and  children  had  taken  refuge ;  and  it  was  while 
defending  the  humble  spot  from  Puro  and  Mocho  alike, 
that  Ward  received  the  won  ,d  which  disabled  him, — 
that  covered  with  blows  from  muskets  and  swords  ho 
fell,  and  trampled  beneath  the  feet  of  the  now  Hying  and 
pursuing  soldiers,  for  a  few  horrible  moments  believed 
himself  doomed  to  die  in  a  senseless  melee,  in  which  his 
only  interest  had  been  to  protect  tho  weak,  but  in  which 
ho  recognized  no  inherent  principle  of  right.  Later  ho 
saw  in  those  apparently  senseless  broils  the  throes  and 
struggles  of  an  undisciplined  and  purblind  nation  toward 
the  attainment  of  a  dimly  seen  ideal  of  justice  and  free- 
dom, and  learned  the  truth  that  these  people,  who  seemed 
so  lightly  swayed  by  the  mere  love  of  adventure,  held 
within  their  breasts  tho  divine  spark  that  distinguishes 
man  from  the  brute,  —  the  deathless  fire  of  patriotism. 
They  too  could  suffer,  bear  imprisonment,  famine,  even 
death,  for  freedom. 

But  these  were  none  of  Ashley  Ward's  reflections  as  ho 
found  himself  laid  apart  from  three  or  four  dead  men,  who 
had  been  hurriedly  thrown  together  for  burial,  and  after 
being  subjected  to  a  hasty  examination  —  which  resulted 
in  the  abstraction  of  his  remaining  funds,  his  watch  and 
other  valuables,  and  the  binding  up  of  his  wound  —  lifted 
to  the  back  of  a  raw-boned  troop-horse,  and  forced  to  join 
the  march  of  the  triumphant  guerillas.  He  would  have 
preferred  to  be  left  to  the  care  of  the  houseless  and  desti- 
tute shepherds ;  but  Captain  Alva,  whether  with  the  hope 
of  some  ultimate  benefit  from  the  capture  of  the  foreigner 


\ ,-,{ 


i 


i:|  L,l 


iiU; 


|fM 


li^  ^ 


■'i' 


i  M;  ^ 


(.'< 


5  1 


.  I* 


•  I  S ':! 


238 


CHATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


or  not  it  's  li-  possible  to  tell,  professed  himself  horrified  at 
the  barbarity  of  deserting  him,  —  and,  as  we  have  seen 
later,  in  api.rchension  of  liis  death  from  exposure  to  the 
sun,  and  the  fever  that  seized  him,  availed  himself  of 
the  opportunity  of  evading  the  responsibility  of  the  death 
of  an  American  upon  his  hands,  by  delivering  him  to  the 
care  of  Dona  Isabel  Garcia. 

And  so,  still  weak,  and  destitute  of  money  until  he 
could  arrange  for  a  supply  from  the  City  of  Mexico,  but 
full  of  hope,  confident  that  he  had  reached  his  goal,  and 
that  a  fev,  discreet  inquiries  would  give  him  the  informa- 
tion he  sought,  and  perhaps  allay  forever  the  doubts  that 
tormented  his  sensitive  conscience,  Ashley  Ward  drew  a 
deep  breath  of  satisfaction  as  he  sat  at  the  hacienda  gate ; 
and  in  an  animated  mood,  which  supplemented  his  in- 
sufficient Spanish,  addressed  himself  to  the  reticent  and 
gloomy  Pedro,  startling  him  from  his  usual  stoicism  by 
the  exclaraii^ior ,  "And  you,  m}'  man,  can  you  tell  me  of 
the  Amoi-  can  jr^ur  foster-child  spoke  of?  There  is  not  so 
much  happ'jjis  here  tbfit  you  can  have  forgotten." 

Had  i.shley  kno^vn  an3'thing  of  the  instincts  and  cus- 
toms of  the  genuine  rai'chero,  he  would  have  begun  his 
investigations  in  a  far  more  guarded  manner.  That  a  cer- 
tain Don  Juan  had  met  a  blood}'  death  there  years  before, 
he  alreadj'  knew ;  that  this  had  been  his  cousin,  he  sur- 
mised ;  that  the  gatekeeper  should  know  more  of  the  do- 
mestic life  of  an  employee  of  the  hacienda  than  the  owner 
herself,  or  even  the  administrador,  was  a  natural  conclu- 
sion. But  had  Ashley  Ward  wished  to  seal  the  lips  of  the 
suspicious  and  astute  gatekeeper,  he  could  not  have  cho- 
sen a  more  effective  manner  of  accomplishing  it.  As  well 
touch  the  horns  of  a  snail  and  expect  that  it  would  not 
withdraw  into  its  shell,  as  to  question  this  man  directly 
and  hope  to  learn  augtit  of  value. 

Pedro  looked  t.t  the  inquirer  from  under  the  shadow  of 
his  bushy  eyebrows  and  wide  hat ;  and  though  his  heart 
bounded,  his  face  became  a  very  mask  of  rustic  stupid- 
ity as  he  answered,  "  Your  grace  has  had  much  fever  with 
vour  wound.  Heaven  and  all  the  saints  be  thanked  that 
you  are  young  and  healthy,  and  will  soon  be  as  strong  as 
ever." 

"  Um  !  "  ejaculated  Ward,  for  the  moment  disconcerted. 


idow  of 
heart 
stupid- 
er with 
ed  that 
rong  as 

icerted. 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


239 


"  T?  es,  I  have  had  fever,  but  that  ha»  nothing  to  do  with 
the  American.  He  was  a  living  man  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years  ago,  if  there  be  any  truth  in  what  your  —  young 
mistress  told  me."  He  hesitated  how  to  designate  the 
giiJ,  whose  status  and  relations  seemed  so  strangely 
undefined. 

Pedro's  eyes  for  a  moment  lightened.  Pep6  laughed 
ironically,  yet  he  would  have  turned  like  a  wild  beast  on 
another  ^yho  had  done  so. 

"  Who  speaks  much,  speaks  to  his  undoing,"  quoth 
Pedro,  gruflly,  and  turned  away ;  yet  he  ej'ed  the  young 
American  furtively,  \vrith  an  inborn  hostility  to  his  race, 
an  unreasoning  belief  that  in  the  guise  of  such  fair  temp- 
ters lurked  the  demon  who  would  destroy  unwary  dam- 
sels body  and  soul,  j^et  with  an  almost  irresistible  desire 
to  unburden  his  soul  of  the  weight  that  had  so  long 
oppressed  it,  to  cr}'  aloud,  "  I  can  tell  you  all  you  would 
kaow, — how  the  American  lived,  how  he  died,  how  the 
child  he  never  saw  lives  after  him.  Is  it  her  you  seek? 
And  why?" 

Pedro  clenched  his  hands  with  a  gasp.  He  remembered 
that  the  natural  instincts  of  kindred  had  changed  to  bitter- 
ness against  Herlinda's  child.  She  had  been  cast  out,  dis- 
owned, deserted.  Who  was  this  stranger,  this  foreigner, 
that  he  should  be  more  just,  more  generous,  toward  the 
doubtful  off'spring  of  one  who  had  died  years  before  ?  How 
should  he  even  guess  such  a  child  to  be  in  existence? 
No,  he  could  not  guess  it.  What  a  mad  thought  had 
darted  through  his  own  brain  I  Pedro  actually  laughed 
at  his  own  perplexed  imaginings.  What!  the  secret  of 
Herlinda,  which  had  been  kept  so  inscrutabl}^  in  danger 
from  this  idle  news-seeker?  Preposterous!  yet  an  odd 
conceit  entered  the  gatekeeper's  mind :  '*  The  blind  man 
dreamed  that  he  saw,  and  dreamed  what  he  desired." 
This  groping  youth  had  come  far  to  inquire  into  the  fate 
of  a  man  long  dead,  —  it  must  be  because  it  would  bring 
him  profit,  for  it  did  not  for  a  moment  occur  to  Pedro 
that  the  questions  asked  were  from  mere  idle  curiosity, 
—  and  would  it  be  possible  anything  should  escape  him  ? 
"  Well,  what  God  wills,  the  saints  themselves  cannot 
hinder." 

Pedro  sat  down  upon  the  stone  bench  opposite,  in  an 


\ 


I 


H 


li 


IL 


P''  ill  ■;  * 

1 1 ' 


■■ii« '  1>» . 


Jill: ,: 


I!' 


240 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


alTcctation  of  sullen  obstinacy.  Ashley  was  weary  and 
chagrined,  and  in  silence  looked  over  the  landscape  with 
an  increasing  sense  of  recognition.  Pepe  stood  in  the 
same  lounging  attitude,  patiently  waiting.  One  might 
have  thought  him  carved  of  wood  against  the  stone  wall, 
yet  of  the  three  men  he  it  was  whose  passions  were  fiercest, 
whose  thoughts  like  unbridled  coursers  followed  one  an- 
other in  mad  confusion. ,  His  mind  was  full  of  Chinita ! 
Chinita!  Chinita!  her  beauty,  her  insolent  grace, — the 
memory  of  her  pretty,  haughty  ways  when  she  had  been 
but  a  barefoot,  ragged  peasant  like  himself,  and  the  con- 
templation of  the  hopeless  height  to  which  she  had  risen. 
Never  before  had  he  been  conscious  that  he  had  aspired. 
Now,  bruised,  torn,  wounded  as  if  by  a  fall  into  hopeless 
depths,  he  saw  her  image  swimming  before  his  disordered 
vision ;  he  thought  of  her  as  a  princess,  a  goddess,  yet 
he  laughed  when  he  heard  her  named  as  mistress. 

Such  was  the  mood  in  which  Pepe  presently  listened  to 
the  disconnected  dialogue  between  Pedro  and  the  guest, 
who  was  hampered  by  a  language  strange  to  him,  and  by 
suspicious  caution  on  the  part  of  the  gatekeeper.  For  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  Pepe  was  struck  by  a  peculiarity  in 
Pedro  with  which  he  had  always  been  acquainted ;  namely, 
his  unwillingness  to  speak  of  the  tragedy,  which  to  other 
minds  had  seemed  no  more  horrible  than  scores  of  others 
that  had  occurred  in  the  neighborhood  and  were  common 
subjects  of  conversation.  As  he  listened,  Pepe  became 
conscious  that  Pedro  was  detracting  from  the  interest  of 
the  tale  rather  than  adding  to  it;  and  when  the  young 
American  at  last  said  inquiringly,  "  And  the  cause  of  this 
murder  was  never  known  ?  There  was  no  woman  —  "  he 
was  startled  that  Pedro  answered  not  with  the  old  jest, 
"  Was  there  ever  an  evil  but  that  a  woman  was  at  the  root 
of  it?"  but  rose  and  strode  rapidly  away. 

"  There  was  a  woman,"  muttered  Ward,  looking  after 
him,  "and  the  gatekeeper  knew  her.  I  have  found  the 
man  who  can  tell  me  of  Herlinda." 

He  spoke  in  English,  but  Pepe  the  eager  listener  caught 
the  name  "Herlinda."  Five  minutes  later,  when  Ward 
turned  to  speak  to  the  j^outh,  he  found  him  with  his  hands 
clasped,  stretched  out  before  him,  his  eyes  staring  into 
vacancy. 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


241 


"Idiot  I"  was  tho  half  contemptuous,  half  pitying  com- 
ment of  the  American.  Little  guessed  he  that  the  conver- 
sation that  had  seemed  to  result  in  so  little  to  him  had 
offered  both  a  suggestion  and  an  inspiration  to  the  peasant, 
—  the  very  key  to  the  problem  which  he  had  himself  come 
so  far  and  dared  so  much  to  solve. 


I 

iiiif 

m 


ill 


16 


:;*: 


Ward 
hands 


Fill-      • 


rMi 


'i  >%:'  !,,  ,! 


ffn^fi 


XXVII. 

Upon  the  following  day,  Ashley  Ward  went  again  to 
the  gateway,  —  not  merely  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  and  en- 
joy the  view,  but  irresistibly  attracted  by  the  remembrance 
of  the  taciturn  warder.  The  more  he  reflected  upon  the 
cmotioD  the  man  had  shown  when  his  eyes  first  rested  upon 
him,  a  stranger,  as  he  had  entered  the  vestibule ;  the  more 
he  thought  upon  the  guarded  replies  to  the  questions  he 
had  asked  concerning  the  young  American  who  had  been 
there  jears  before,  —  the  more  convinced  he  became  that 
there  had  been  a  mystery  which  had  led  to  his  kinsman's 
death,  and  that  Pedro,  if  he  would,  could  divulge  it. 

Was  it  possible  the  man  himself  was  the  assassin?  The 
perplexed  youth  began  to  sound  Pepd  cautiously  as  to  the 
reputation  Pedro  had  borne.  But  the  young  fellow  was 
absorbed  in  other  matters,  of  which  Ashley  rightly  conjec- 
tured Chinita  was  the  vital  point,  and  was  wandering  and 
curt  in  his  answers.  Yet  he  seemed  to  feel  that  Ashley 
divined,  if  he  did  not  comprehend,  his  pain,  and  so  at- 
tached himself  to  him  and  followed  him  about,  much  as 
might  a  wounded  dog  some  stranger  who  had  spoken  to 
him  with  an  accent  of  pity  in  his  voice. 

So  when  Ashley  went  to  the  gateway,  it  was  Pepe's 
arm  that  aided  him,  though  with  the  impatience  of  a 
3'oung  man  he  protested  against  this  need  of  a  crutch, 
and  had  actually  walked  steadily  enough  across  the  court, 
under  the  gaze  of  Dofia  Feliz  and  Chinita,  who  happened 
to  be  in  the  window ;  but  he  had  been  glad  to  clutch  at 
Pepd  as  they  entered  the  vestibule.  The  lad  was  not 
trembling  then,  but  erect  and  flushed :  Chinita  had  smiled 
upon  him  as  he  passed. 

Pedro  was  standing  in  the  gateway,  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hand,  and  gazing  toward  the  canon  which 
opened  behind  the  reduction-works.  He  did  not  notice 
Ashley  and  Pepo,  bnt  presently  began  to  mutter:     "Yes, 


it  is  I 

thoo,  I 

daught 

dinner. 

Pepd 

said;  ' 

now ;   e 

your  bic 

comes  t] 

"Go 

l>lind,  th 

like  a  do 

the  cano 

briel  and 

faces. " 

So  cou 
the  travel 
ral  at  the 
into  a  ms 
ordinary' t 
Pepe,  ii 
usual  lour 
the  approf 
had    asscD 
young  fig, 
stone  bene 
surprise  sa 
anticipatioi 
about  to  s] 
self  close  t 
where  she 
No  one  bt 
behind  her, 
"Hush! 
we  here,  — 
^ere  a  good 
JJoiia  Isabel 
and  Dona  F( 
again.'' 

The  excite 
yet  Pedro 
crowd  were 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


243 


lis  eyes 
wbicli 
notice 

"Yes, 


it  is  they.  Don  Rafael  has  had  a  lucky  journey.  Go 
thou,  Chinita,  arc'  tell  Dona  Feliz  the  master  and  her 
daughter-in-law  and  children  will  be  here  for  the  noon 
dinner." 

Pepe  laughed  derisively.  "You  r«jrget,  Pedro,"  he 
said;  "it  is  the  nina  Chinita,  and  thj  Senorita  Chinita 
now ;  even  if  she  heard,  she  is  scarce  likely  to  run  at 
your  bidding.  But  are  j'ou  sure  the  Seiior  Administrador 
comes  there  ?    If  so,  I  will  mj'self  go  and  tell  them." 

"  Go  then,  go !  "  cried  Tedro,  impatiently.  "  I  am  not 
blind,  though  old  usu^  e  sometimes  misleads  me,  and  I  talk 
like  a  dotard.  Yes,  yes.  There  comes  the  carriage  down 
the  canon,  and  Don  Rafael  himself  on  his  gray,  and  Ga- 
briel and  Panchito ;  I  can  almost  distinguish  their  very 
faces. " 

So  could  Ashley,  for  the  air  was  brilliantly  clear,  and 
the  travellers  had  3ielded  to  the  inspiring  influences  natu- 
ral at  the  sight  of  home,  and  allowed  their  horses  to  break 
into  a  mad  pace,  far  different  from  the  methodic  gait  of 
ordinar}'  travel. 

Pepe,  in  spite  of  repressed  excitement,  had  gone  at  his 
usual  lounging  and  listless  pace  to  inform  Dona  Feliz  of 
the  approach  of  her  son,  and  a  little  group  of  villagers 
had  assembled  around  Pedro,  when  a  lithe,  active 
young  figure  brushed  by  them  and  leaped  upon  the 
stone  bench  at  Ashley's  side.  He  glanced  up,  and  to  his 
surprise  saw  Chinita,  her  hair  flying,  her  eyes  bright  with 
anticipation.  Putting  her  finger  upon  her  lip  as  he  was 
about  to  speak,  as  if  to  enjoin  silence,  she  pressed  her- 
self close  to  the  wall.  There  was  a  long  narrow  niche 
where  she  stood,  and  it  received  almost  her  entire  figure. 
No  one  but  Ashley  and  Pepe,  who  came  with  haste 
behind  her,  bad  noticed  her. 

"  Hush !  hush ! "  she  whispered.  "  Chata  will  look  for 
me  here,  — bore  where  I  used  to  stand.  Ay,  Pepe,  30U 
were  a  good  lad  to  warn  me  in  time,  so  I  could  slip  away. 
Doiia  Isabel  will  never  miss  me,  —  she  is  at  her  prayers ; 
and  Dona  Feliz  is  wild  with  joy  that  her  son  comes  home 
again." 

The  excited  girl  had  spoken  in  the  softest  of  voices, 
yet  Pedro  heard  her.  But  the  rest  of  the  gathering 
crowd  were  craning  their  necks  and  straining  their  eyes 


it 


m 


I  \. 


244 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


'r-A 


■f't; 


t'  f, 


!■:::-  \ 


■\      ■     ( 


in  the  direction  in  which  the  approaching  travellers  were 
to  be  seen. 

Pepc  looked  up  at  the  ardent  and  gyp85'-like  young  crea- 
ture, as  though  she  were  a  saint,  and  Ashley  with  a  glance 
of  genuine  admiration  and  sympathy.  He  knew  not  whom 
she  was  thus  eager  to  welcome,  but  it  thrilled  and  sur- 
prised him  that  she  should  manifest  such  lively  affection. 
Both  the  young  men  instinctively  drew  near  as  if  to 
shield  her,  and  stood  one  on  either  side,  almost  hiding  her. 

"  That  is  right ;  but  you  will  stand  away  and  let  her 
see  me  when  the  carriage  drives  by,"  she  whispered, 
placing  a  hand  on  Pepe's  shoulder.  "  Dios  miOy  how  my 
heart  beats !  She  will  cry  with  joy  when  she  sees  me, 
with  silk  skirts  and  all  so  fine.  And  Dona  Rita  and 
the  niiia  Rosario,  —  how  they  will  open  wide  their  eyes !  " 
And  she  broke  into  a  low  laugh,  which  to  Ashley's  ear" 
was  too  full  of  a  sort  of  malicious  triumph  to  be  merry. 

The  time  of  waiting  seemed  long;  it  was  indeed  far 
longer  than  Chinita  had  counted  upon.  "  They  will  miss 
me  from  the  house ;  they  will  look  for  me  here ! "  she 
whispered  again  and  again  in  an  agony  of  impatience. 

Strangely  enough,  the  adults  of  the  gaping  throng,  who 
were  intent  on  watching  the  approach  of  the  travellers, 
had  not  noticed  her ;  but  three  or  four  children  arrayed 
themselves  in  a  wondering  row,  pointing  their  fingers  at 
her  with  ej^iculations  of  "  Look !  look !  "  but  were  checked 
from  uttering  more  by  Pepe's  warning  frowns  and  Chi- 
nita's  own  imploring  gestures. 

Ashley  was  beginning  to  realize  that  there  must  be 
much  that  was  absurd  in  the  scene.  Surely,  never  was 
so  strange  a  background  made  for  a  group  of  gossiping 
peasants  as  this  of  the  eager-eyed  and  beautiful  girl, 
leaning  from  her  niche  in  the  massive  stone-wall  between 
the  two  young  men  —  the  one  the  type  of  aristocratic 
refinement  and  delicacy ;  the  other  of  swarthy,  ignorant, 
half-tamed  savagery  —  who  served  as  caryatids,  upon 
whom  she  leaned  alternntolj'  in  licr  excitement,  seeming 
herself  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  each. 

The  carriage  with  its  group  of  outriders  now  rapidly  ap- 
proached. "Ah!  ah!"  exclaimed  Chinita,  "the  horses 
are  plunging  at  the  tree  where  the  American  was  murdered. 
They  say  the  creatures  can  always  see  him  there,  Senior. 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


245 


Ah,  now  they  have  passed ;  they  come  gayl}',  they  como 
straight.  It  is  not  only  the  Seiior  Admiiiistrador  and  the 
servants,  there  arc  strangers  too.  I  am  glad !  I  am 
happj'^ !    I  love  to  see  new  faces !  " 

"Be  silent!"  whispered  Pcpc,  hurriedly;  "all  the 
world  will  hear  if  you  sing  so  loud.  (Jarrhi !  the  sol- 
dier sees  3'ou ! " 

It  was  true ;  though  the  villagers  had  been  too  intent  up- 
on welcoming  the  new-comers  to  heed  Chinita,  and  the  car- 
riage flashed  by  so  rapidly  the  inmates  could  have  caught 
but  a  glimpse  of  color  against  the  cold  gray  wall,  a  stranger 
in  a  travel-stained  uniform  started  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
her,  and  checked  his  horse  so  suddenly  that  it  reared. 

"  The  Virgin  of  our  native  land !  "  he  muttered  in  a  sort 
of  patriotic  and  admiring  wonder.  *'  Ah,  what  a  beautiful 
creature ! "  he  added,  as  the  girl  he  had  for  a  moment 
classed  as  a  saint  sprang  from  her  niche  to  the  bench  and 
thence  to  the  ground,  and  darted  through  the  crowd  to  the 
inner  court,  —  where  by  this  time  the  carriage  had  stopped 
and  its  inmates  were  descending. 

Ashley  sank  upon  the  bench  with  a  sudden  access  of 
weariness.  Pedro,  oblivious  of  his  vicinity,  crouched  rather 
than  sat  beside  him.  The  gatekeeper's  nerves  doubtless 
were  weak.  The  carriage  that  had  driven  into  the  court 
was  the  same  in  which  Herlinda  Garcia  had  departed  years 
before  ;  as  it  dashed  by  him  he  could  have  sworn  he  saw 
her  face  framed  in  the  window.  He  had  seen,  as  had 
Chinita,  the  sad  and  gentle  coimtenance  of  Chata.  Grief 
reveals  strange  likenesses. 

When  Chinita  reached  the  carriage  door,  she  found  it 
blocked  by  the  descending  travellers  and  those  who  wel- 
comed them.  Dorta  Rita  was  so  slow  in  carefully  placing 
her  feet  from  step  to  step,  and  paused  so  often  to  answei- 
salutations,  that  there  was  ample  time  for  the  young  ofli- 
cer  to  reach  the  spot  and  extend  a  hand  to  Rosario  who 
followed  her.  Her  blushes  and  coy  smiles ;  the  air  with 
which  she  drew  back  and  with  which,  with  a  little  shriek, 
she  pulled  her  dress  over  her  tinj'  foot  lest  it  might  be 
seen ;  the  soft  glances  which  she  threw  from  beneath  her 
long  lashes,  —  formed  a  pretty  piece  of  by -play,  quite  in- 
telligible to  all  beholders,  but  for  that  time  certainly  quite 
thrown  away  upon  the  Gtranger. 


■iij:    i 


mil 


24G 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


\{'A 


f^'f 


■i:    I 


It. 


v.: 


Ten  minutes  before,  to  have  held  for  a  few  brief  minutes 
the  tips  of  Rosario's  fingers  would  have  been  to  him 
ecstasy.  Now  he  was  scarcely  conscious  that  they  were 
within  his  own,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  Chinita  as 
she  stood  breathlessly  waiting  for  Chata.  Never  in  his 
life,  he  thought,  had  he  seen  such  a  face.  The  changeable 
yet  ever  radiant  expression  was  like  the  dazzle  of  warm 
sunshine  through  scented  leaves ;  the  shimmer  of  rebellious 
hair  was  a  divine  halo,  though  the  sparkle  of  the  dusky 
eyes  declared  a  daring  soul  more  fit  for  earthly  adventure 
than  ethereal  joys. 

Rosario's  eyes  followed  his  gaze.  She  had  heard  the 
strange  tale  of  Dona  Isabel's  intervention  in  the  fate  of 
the  waif.  She  had  wondered  whether  the  high-born  lady 
could  have  seen  anything  in  the  girl's  face  that  attractcsd 
her ;  and  that  moment  more  decidedly  than  ever  she  an- 
swered "  No,"  yet  realized  that  here  was  ;j,  face  to  be- 
witch men.  She  tossed  her  head  and  passed  on.  Dona 
Feliz  stopped  her  to  embrace  her,  and  meanwhile  the  two 
early  playmates  met. 

*' Life  of  my  soul!"  cried  Chinita.  *' How  1  have 
longed  for  you!  Did  you  not  see  me  perched  in  the 
niche  of  the  wall?  Ay,  how  Dona  Isabel  would  frown 
if  she  knew!" 

"  I  saw  only  the  tall,  fair  man,"  answered  Chata  in  a 
low  voice.  She  was  pale  and  trembled :  "  I  thought  first 
it  was  the  ghost  of  the  American.  Oh  God,  what  a 
shock ! " 

Chinita  laughed  merrily.  "  What !  a  coward  still,  and 
with  the  old  stories  we  used  to  tell  still  first  in  j'our  mind  ? 
Ah,  I  have  tales  to  tell  now  will  be  worth  your  hearing." 
She  bent  low  and  added  in  a  whisper,  "  Have  they  not 
told  you?     I  have  the  place  of  the  Senorita  Herlinda 

she  must 
look  like 


think  sometimes 
her  stead.    Do  I 


now !  I  have  her  room.  I 
be  dead,  and  I  have  risen  in 
a  ghost,  Chata  ?  " 

"  Hush,  hush !  "  entreated  Chata.  "  Oh  Chinita,  I  wish 
I  never  had  gone  away.  Oh,  how  shall  I  live  now  ?  How 
can  I  bear  it?" 

At  that  moment  Dofia  Feliz  approached,  and  evading 
her  proffered  embrace  the  young  girl  bent  her  head  on 
the  arm  of  the  woman  and  burst  into  tears.    Chinita  stood 


confou] 

*  certa: 

turned 

"Wl 

"Chi 

man  is  ; 

here  qu 

her  han 

apart. 

Almo! 
ing  low, 
obeyed 
rage  pos 
some  der 
neck  and 
"I  an 
said.    "] 

laughed,  j 
the  Amer 
Her  la! 
Ashley  y\ 
appollatio 
stairs,  an( 
Her  eyes 
The  yoi 
ing  arm. 
woman's  c 
a  revelatic 
"Your 
for  a  ranc 
irony;   bu 
added,  "S 
have  stran 
A  lau<,„ 
and  lookec 
slowly  awa 
Chata  gi 
why.     Hci 
and  haugh 
from  Dona 
seemed  to 
had  met,  b 


1"' 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


247 


confounded ;  the  light  and  joyousnces  died  out  of  her  face ; 
a  certain  half-savage  look  of  inquiry  came  over  it.  She 
turned  abruptly  to  the  young  officer,  — 

"What  have  they  done  to  her?  "  she  demanded. 

"Chinita,"  said  a  cold,  impassive  voice,  "this  gentle- 
man is  a  stranger  to  you.  It  is  not  seemly  that  you  stand 
here  questioning  him ; "  and  with  an  imperious  wave  of 
her  hand,  Dona  Isabel  seemed  actually  to  force  the  two 
apart. 

Almost  unconsciously  the  young  man  drew  back,  bow- 
ing low,  and  Chinita  turned  to  the  staircase ;  yet  as  she 
obeyed  the  movement  of  Dona  Isabel's  hand  a  furious 
rage  possessed  her.  As  she  stepped  upon  the  -first  stair, 
some  demon  prompted  ber  to  wind  her  arm  around  Chata's 
neck  and  raise  her  tear-stained  face. 

"I  am  going  to  the  Sciiorita  HerUnda's  room,"  she 
said.  "  I  am  there  in  her  place ;  and  —  "  here  she  stopped, 
laughed,  and  threw  a  glance  over  her  sL  ulder  —  "  there  is 
the  American ! " 

Her  last  words  had  been  prompted  by  a  glimpse  of 
Ashley  Ward  as  he  crossed  the  court.  He  caught  the 
appellation,  and  bowed  and  smiled.  Chinita  ran  up  the 
stairs,  and  Dona  Isabel  stood  rigid  with  a  face  like  death. 
Her  eyes  were  resting  however  on  Chata's  countenance. 

The  young  girl  had  shrunk  within  Dona  Feliz's  protect- 
ing arm.  Had  Doiia  Isabel  turned  her  eyes  upon  the 
woman's  defiant  yet  apprehensive  face,  it  might  have  been 
a  revelation  to  her ;  but  she  looked  at  Don  Rafael. 

"  Your  daughter  has  a  strange  face  and  strange  ways 
for  a  ranchcro's  daughter,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt  at 
irony;  but  it  failed.  Her  face  worked  painfully  as  she 
added,  "  She  reminds  me  of  those  I  would  forget  We 
have  strange  fancies  as  we  grow  old." 

A  laugh  sounded  from  the  window  above.  She  started 
and  looked  up,  then  dropped  her  head  again  and  turned 
slowly  away. 

Chata  gazed  after  her  awestruck,  though  she  knew  not 
why.  Her  manner  was  so  different  from  that  of  the  proud 
and  haughty  dame  she  had  pictured.  Don  Rafael  looked 
from  Dona  Isabel  to  his  mother.  Both  these  women,  it 
seemed  to  him,  had  grown  wonderfully  aged  since  they 
had  met,  but  a  month  or  so  before.    There  was  a  subtile 


If  1 


I 


'F- '     m 


y 

■ 

! 

1 

1 

i 

i 

f 

i 

i 
; 

248 


CHATA   AND   CI/INITA, 


(-. 


¥:■  n 


i't)-; 


!!■    i 


antagonism  between  them  —  these  two  who  loved  each 
other,  as  only  such  deep  intense  natures  can  —  which 
tore  and  harried  them  far  more  than  actual  hate  could 
have  done. 

"What  hast  thou,  my  life?"  Dofia  Feliz  whispered  to 
Chata.  *'  Art  thou  not  happy?  Have  strange  tales  been 
told  thee  ?  "  and  she  looked  keenly  at  her  daughter-in-law, 
who  had  smiled  and  courtesied  in  vain  as  Doiia  Isabel 
went  by. 

"My  mother,"  said  Dona  Rita  in  her  softest  voice, 
"the  child  is  weary  ;  s^"  must  rest.  Heed  not  this  silly 
child,  Don  Fernando.  Thank  Heaven,  Rosario  is  not  so 
fanciful ! " 

But  Don  Fernando  was  not  thinking  of  Rosario,  or 
of  Chata  either  for  that  mal  t«r,  but  of  how  he  had  slunk 
away  from  his  chief  to  pros«!Cute  a  love-affair  that  he  had 
believed  no  power  could  male  less  than  a  matter  of  life  or 
death  to  him  ;  and  how  in  a  moment  it  had  become  lighter 
than  air.  The  boyish  perversity  with  which  he  had  deter- 
mined, even  at  the  risk  of  offending  his  patron,  to  continue 
his  courtship  of  Rosario  Sanchez,  trusting  to  fate  or  her 
father's  generosity  to  make  marriage  with  her  possible, 
faded  from  his  mind  like  a  dream,  and  with  it  her  image  ; 
and  in  its  place  rose  the  arch  mocking  face  of  the  "little 
saint  of  the  Wall."  Proved  she  angel  or  demon,  he  felt 
that  she  was  henceforth  the  genius  of  his  destiny.  He 
was  a  vain  and  profligate  adventurer;  but  all  the  same 
the  arrow  had  found  his  heart;  not  as  a  thousand  times 
before  to  inflict  a  passing  scratch,  but  to  bury  itself  in 
its  inmost  core. 

All  had  taken  place  in  a  few  short  moments.  While  the 
horses  were  being  unharnessed  and  led  away ;  while  the 
villagers  were  still  crowding  around  the  carriage,  and  Dona 
Rita's  baskets  and  packages  were  being  lifted  out ;  while 
a  few  words  of  greeting  were  exchanged,  —  emotions  and 
passions  had  sprung  into  being  that  were  to  make  the 
secm'ngly  prosjiic  household  a  very  vortex  of  conflicting 
elements. 

The  young  American,  who  thought  himself  but  a  looker- 
on,  was  also  not  unmoved.  Like  Dona  Isabel,  he  said 
within  himself,  "  That  young  girl  has  a  strange  face  and 
strange  ways  for  the  daughter  of  a  Mexican.     And  yet 


what  km 

atmosph 

haps  out 

Fates  gr 

speaking 

pened  h( 

of.     Bui 

escape  t 

comes  th 

dashing  i 

with  sadl 

l*epo  a] 

by  to  the 

from  loui 

inferior  si 

"  Insoh 

revival  of 

swarthy  y 

nor  cared 

with  the  S 

the  time  < 

he,  Fernar 

fit  to  serv< 

wonderful 

if  he,  Ruiz, 

fire  and  ex 

tied  to  a  re 

trammels, 

control,  frc 


CIIATA   AND   CmNllA. 


249 


ookcr- 
le  said 
ce  and 
nd  yet 


what  know  I  of  Mexicans  or  their  ways  ?  This  is  a  strange 
atmosphere,  and  fills  ray  brain  with  strange  fancies.  Per- 
haps out  of  them  all  I  shall  evolve  some  reality.  May  the 
Fates  grant  me  again  such  a  chance  as  I  had  to-day  of 
speaking  to  the  wild  gypsy  Chinita!  Nothing  has  hap- 
pened here,  I  can  well  believe,  that  she  cannot  tell  mo 
of.  But  after  the  escapade  of  to-day,  she  will  hardly 
escape  the  vigilance  of  her  duenna  again.  Ah,  hero 
comes  the  young  soldier  —  too  travel-stained  to  be  as 
dashing  as  is  his  custom,  no  doubt.  He  looks  a  gay  bird 
with  sadly  bedraggled  feathers." 

Pepo  apparently  approved  of  him  as  little,  as  he  passed 
by  to  the  room  assigned  him.  The  peasant  did  not  cease 
from  lounging  against  the  wall  or  bare  his  head  as  an 
inferior  should. 

*'  Insolent  barbarian ! "  muttered  Don  Fernando,  in  a 
revival  of  his  usual  contempt  for  the  peasantry,  as  the 
swarthy  young  fellow  scowled  at  him,  he  neither  guessed 
nor  cared  why.  What  could  such  a  vagabond  have  to  do 
with  the  Senora  Garcia's  protegee?  He  would  serve  when 
the  time  came,  to  make  one,  in  the  independent  troop 
he,  Fernando,  would  raise :  such  worms  as  he  were  only 
fit  to  serve  men.  There  were  wild  rumors  afloat  of  the 
wonderful  fortune  of  that  phoenix  Benito  Juarez.  What 
if  he,  Ruiz,  should  join  his  standard  ?  There  was  a  strange 
fire  and  exultation  in  the  young  man's  veins.  He  had  been 
tied  to  a  resistless  fate  long  enough,  —  he  would  break  his 
trammels,  and  by  one  daring  act  free  himself  forever  from 
control,  from  tutelage,  from  Bamirez. 


ir. 


XXVIII. 


i'*:l 


'i 


»U  r 


is    iM  ;  ':'  i 


vkiui 


,,^:,.  j. 


*'  Senor  Don  Rafael  1 "  cried  a  hoarse  voice  at  break 
of  day.  *'  Rise,  your  grace  !  for  strange  tilings  have  hap- 
pened while  we  have  slept!  Ay,  Seiior,  if  the  demon 
himself  has  not  carried  away  Pedro  the  gatekeeper,  who 
can  tell  us  how  he  has  gone  ?  " 

"Gone I"  echoed  the  voice  of  Don  Rafael  from 
within. 

"  Gone,  Seiior,  and  left  not  even  so  much  as  his  shadow ; 
yet  the  doors  are  locked,  and  not  even  in  the  postern  is 
there  so  much  as  a  crack,  nor  the  key  in  the  lock.  The 
muleteers,  who  were  to  be  upon  the  road  at  cock-crow, 
have  waited  until  both  they  and  their  beasts  are  cramped 
with  standing,  and  all  to  no  purpose." 

"Is  this  true?"  exclaimed  Don  Rafael,  presently  ap- 
pearing with  a  serape  thrown  over  his  shoulders,  and 
shivering  in  the  morning  air.  "Ay,  man,  thou  hast  a 
tongue  like  a  woman's.  And  Pedro,  thou  saycst,  is 
gone  ?  " 

The  man  drew  one  hand  sharply  across  the  other,  as 
who  should  say,  "  vanished !  "  though  his  lips  ejaculated, 
"  Gone,  Seiior ;  and  who  is  to  open  the  door  now  that  it 
is  shut?  And  who  could  shut  the  door  upon  Pedro  but 
Satan  himself  ?  " 

"Who,  indeed?"  said  Don  Rafael,  gravely.  "Think 
you  so  bulky  a  fellow  could  creep  through  the  keyhole  of 
the  postern  and  take  the  key  with  him?  By  good  fortune, 
he  brought  mo  the  key  of  the  great  door  as  usual,  and 
hiere  it  is.  If  the  Devil  hath  carried  away  one  gatekeeper 
on  his  shoulders,  it  is  but  fair  he  should  send  me  another ; 
and  thou,  Felipe,  shall  be  the  man." 

Felipe  stared  a  moment ;  then  with  a  transient  change 
of  expression  which  might  be  of  intelligence,  or  simply  a 
vague  smile  at  his  own  good  fortune,  extended  his  hand 
for  the  keys ;  and  suddenly  mute  with  the  weight  of  his 


CHATA   AND   CIUNITA. 


251 


unexpected  promotion  trudp;ed  down  the  stone  stairs, 
across  the  silent  inner  court  and  the  outer  one,  wiiero 
])y  this  time  the  household  servants  were  exchanging  ex- 
clamations of  wonder  and  alarm  with  the  impatient  mule- 
teers. Felipe  unlocked  the  wide  doors,  threw  them  open 
with  a  clang,  sank  into  Pedro's  place  upon  the  stone  bench, 
and  thereafter  reigned  in  his  stead. 

The  wonder  of  Pedro's  disappearance  grew  greater  and 
ever  greater,  until  the  boy  Pepu  said  sulkily  he  had  been 
l)laycd  a  shabby  trick.  Had  not  he  said  to  Pedro  the  night 
before,  when  the  Sefior  Don  Rafael  had  told  them  that 
the  General  Vicente  Gonzales  was  in  El  Toro,  that  for  a 
word  he  himself  would  go  to  him  there ;  and  doubtless 
Pedro  had  stolen  away  alone,  like  the  surly  fox  that  he 
was.  But  the  saints  be  praised,  the  road  was  open  to 
one  man  as  well  as  tinother. 

"  Hush  1 "  said  one  in  a  warning  tone  ;  "  though  Pedro 
may  have  a  fancy  for  a  clefb  head  or  broken  bones,  must 
we  all  cry  for  the  same  ?  Go  to  thou  Pepu  I  thou  art  scarce 
old  enough  to  leave  the  shade  of  thy  mother's  reboso. 
Did  I  not  sec  thee  sucking  thy  thumb  but  last  Saint 
John's  day?" 

There  was  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  though  Pepc  raged, 
no  one  heeded  his  wrath ;  the  talk  was  all  of  Pedro.  That 
he  had  gone  to  be  a  soldier  was  universall}'  believed  ;  that 
Don  Rafael,  and  not  the  Devil,  had  aided  his  going  was 
not  for  a  moment  thought  of.  The  women  crossed  them- 
selves, and  the  men  spat  on  the  floor  emphatically,  —  yet 
there  had  been  more  mysteries  than  that  in  the  life  of 
Pedro. 

Florencia,  who  was  distraught  at  her  uncle's  disappear- 
ance, and  tore  her  hair  and  bewailed  herself  as  a  bereaved 
niece  should,  found  her  way  to  Chinita  to  pour  out  her 
griefs  and  fears ;  although  since  the  change  in  the  young 
girl's  p  dtion  they  had  by  common  consent  ignored  their 
former  .elations,  —  Florencia,  because  of  the  wide  social 
gulf  fixed  between  the  great  house  and  the  hovels  around 
it ;  Chinita,  from  pure  indifference.  She  was  too  full  of 
her  new  life  to  think  of  the  old,  or  of  the  persons  connected 
with  it. 

It  was  so  early  that  she  was  still  not  fully  dressed,  and 
the  chocolate  wherewith  to  break  her  fast  stood  untouched 


M' 


252 


CHATA  AND   CHI  NIT  A. 


I*   i? 

I' 

ii  ^ 


'!*•  ': 


H. 


';■    i' 


upon  the  table,  when  the  sornd  of  some  one  sobbing  at 
the  door  brought  a  tone  of  sorrow  into  thoughts  which  had 
simply  been  vexed  before. 

Chinita  had  risen  in  an  ill  humor.  Dona  Rita  and  Rosa- 
rio,  and  even  Chata  herself,  had  failed  to  show  any  surprise 
at  her  position.  True,  Don  Rafael  had  warned  them  of 
it ;  but  at  least  something  more  than  a  kindly  indifference 
might  have  greeted  her,  —  if  only  a  glance  of  envy  from 
Rosario.  What  wonderful  things  had  they  all  seen,  that 
they  had  no  thoughts  to  spare  for  her?  Bah!  Rosario 
had  neither  eyes  nor  thoughts  for  any  one  but  the  young 
oflicer  with  the  red  neck-tie.  Well,  they  should  seel 
But  what  of  Dona  Rita,  —  and  Chata  too?  Why,  Chinita 
hardly  knew  her.  Wat}  she  also  thinking  but  of  her- 
self, like  the  others?  That  was  a  change  in  Chata,  and 
one  that  ill-suited  her. 

Chinita  had  slept  badly  for  thinking  of  these  things; 
and  truth  to  tell,  when  her  mind  was  ill  at  ease  the  soft- 
ness of  the  bed  troubled  her.  She  had  dreamed  of  snakes, 
of  three  snakes  who  had  lifted  their  heads  out  of  water  to 
hiss  at  her.  Here  was  the  first  one.  Certainly  she  had 
not  dreamed  of  snakes  for  nothing.  Well,  to  be  sure, 
here  was  Florencia,  whom  she  had 
come  with  some  trouble !      She  felt 


almost 
little 


a 


forgotten, 
flutter  of 

gratification,  and  unconsciously  assumed  the  air  of  a 
patrona,  as  she  said,  — 

"Ah,  is  it  then  Florencia?  And  what  ails  thee;  and 
how  can  I  help  thee?  "What,  has  Tomasito  broken  the 
newest  water-jar,  or  by  better  fortune  his  neck?  Or  has 
Terecita  choked  herself  with  a  dry  bean  ? " 

"  God  has  not  desired  to  do  me  such  favors,"  returned 
Florencia,  piously  and  with  a  flood  of  tears.  "  No,  rather 
than  my  children  should  become  little  angels,  he  prefers 
that  they  shall  be  friendless  upon  the  earth.  Ay  de  mi! 
what  is  a  father,  what  is  a  husband  (and  you  know  the 
very  driveller  of  a  man  I  have),  what  is  any  one  to  an  uncle 
who  was  a  gatekeeper  of  Tres  Herraanos  ?  —  a  veritable 
treasure  of  silver,  a  spring  of  refreshing !  Was  there  ever 
a  time  Florencia  asked  a  shilling  of  Pedro  in  vain?" 

At  another  time  Chinita  would  have  laughed  at  this 
pious  exaggeration ;  now  it  filled  her  with  inexpressible 
alarm. 


CHATA    AND   CIIINITA. 


253 


*' What!  i8  my  god-fathor  dead?"  she  cried,  wringing 
her  liands  and  for  the  moment  relapsing  into  the  demon- 
strative gestures  and  cries  of  her  plebeian  training.  ''''Ay 
JJios^  Florencia,  it  cannot  be !  Answer  me,  stupid  one  ! 
Is  tliy  mouth  as  full  as  thy  eyes  that  thou  canst  not 
answer?" 

*'  Is  chocolate  served  to  the  poor  at  day-break?"  cried 
Florencia  in  an  injured  tone,  and  with  a  glance  at  the 
dainty  breakfast;  and  then  at  an  impatient  word  from 
Chinita  she  explained  how  Pedro  had  departed  in  the 
niglit,  though  the  hacienda  doors  were  locked  upon  the 
inside,  and  conjectured  that  if  he  had  not  been  spirited 
away  by  the  Devil,  he  had  gone  to  join  the  Liberal  Gen- 
eral Gonzales,  —  there  could  be  no  other  alternative. 
She  had  heard  Seiior  Don  Rafael  talking  to  him  till 
late  in  the  night  of  how  Gonzales  had  beaten  the  Gen- 
eral Ramirez  at  El  Toro,  and  was  still  there  trying  to 
strengthen  his  forces,  while  those  of  the  Clergy  had  dis- 
appeared, no  one  knew  where,  but  surely  to  gather  men 
and  means  to  recover  the  lost  position. 

Chinita's  eyes  flashed.  She  knew  nothing  of  politics, 
but  she  thrilled  at  the  name  of  Ramirez.  She  laughed 
scornfully  that  Pedro  should  throw  his  puny  strength  into 
the  force  against  him.  Still  she  said,  "  God  keep  him ;  " 
and  jested  away  Florencia's  fears. 

"Bah!  What  should  happen  to  my  god-father?"  she 
said.  "And  thou  knowest  thou  wilt  want  for  nothing. 
Hark  thou !  there  is  nothing  to  cry  for  that  thy  uncle  is 
gone.  Has  he  not  often  told  us  of  the  dollars  he  made  in 
the  wars  ?  " 

"  I  fear  me  he  is  likely  rather  to  receive  hard  blows 
than  hard  dollars  now,"  answered  Florencia,  disconso- 
lately, —  an  expression  of  expectancy,  however,  relieving 
her  doleful  countenance,  as  she  added,  "  Ah,  Chinita  of 
my  soul,  thou  wert  ever  the  kerchief  to  wipe  away  my 
tears." 

Chinita  laughed.  "  Thou  used  to  say  I  was  a  prickly 
pear  to  draw  tears,  rather  than  a  kcrchiet'  to  dry  them," 
she  presently  said,  pushing  her  chocolate  toward  P^lo- 
rencia,  and  thrusting  into  her  hand  the  little  twists  of 
bread. 

"There,  take  th;;m  ;   I  would  u  thousand  times  rather 


i;  i* 


W 


1 

,  j  - 

i 

1  ii 

fill 

\J'' 

1  plj 

1  §\'- 

w'- 

! 

H  ■ ! 


254 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


have  a  thick  cake  aud  a  drink  of  white  gruel.  One  is  not 
always  in  the  humor  for  sweets ; "  and  she  tugged  viciously 
at  the  hair  she  tried  vainly  to  smooth,  —  she  was  alwa^'s 
at  feud  with  it  because  it  was  not  longer.  But  at  last  she 
confined  it  in  two  short  tresses,  tying  each  with  a  red 
ribbon  ;  and  then  suddenly  dropping  on  her  knees  before 
Florencia,  placed  her  hands  palm  downward  upon  the 
lloor,  and  looking  up  in  the  woman's  face  with  a  laugh 
exclaimed,  as  a  tinge  of  red  deepened  the  olive  of  her 
complexion,  "And  what  of  the  American,  Florencia?  Is 
he  like  him  thou  sayest  the  Senorita  Herlinda  loved  ?  " 

"Ave  Maria  Purissima!"  cried  the  startled  woman. 
"The  saints  forbid  that  I  should  say  such  a  thing  of  a 
Garcia,  and  she  dedicated  to  the  Madonna !  "  But  recov- 
ering herself,  "Certainly  this  American  is  like  tlie  other. 
Is  not  one  cactus  like  another  that  grows  on  the  same 
mountain?  Should  a  white-tlooded  American  be  like  a 
cavalier  of  blue-blood,  or  like  an  Indian  of  the  villages? 
Yet  both,  one  and  the  ether,  are  we  not  Mexicans  ?  "  and 
she  uttered  the  words  as  one  might  say,  "  Are  we  not 
gods?" 

"  That  is  very  true,"  commented  Chiuita,  gravely ;  "  and 
j'Ct  they  are  not  frights,  these  Americans.  Why  should 
not  the  Senorita  Herlinda  have  loved  one  if  it  pleased 
her?  Listen,  Florencia ;  I  will  tell  thee  a  dream  I  had 
one  night.  When  one's  bed  is  too  soft,  one  dreams 
dreams." 

Florencia  looked  at  the  girl  with  an  admiring  glance. 
How  amiable  she  could  be,  this  Chinita,  when  she 
chose.  '*  Little  puss !  little  puss ! "  she  murmured, 
giving  her  the  pet  name  Pedro  had  used,  when  in  her 
kittenish  moods  one  had  never  known  whether  she  would 
scratch  or  fondle  one  with  soft  purrings,  begun  and  ended 
in  a  moment.  "  Little  puss !  thou  wert  ever  good  to  thy 
Florcricia." 

"  Thou  art  a  flatterer ! "  ejaculated  Chinita,  half-inclined 
to  withhold  her  confidence,  yet  longing  for  a  listener.  "Ay, 
Florencia,  thou  knowest  not  what  it  is  to  sit  for  hours  in 
the  gloom  within  four  walls.  Ah,  what  thoughts  come 
into  one's  head !  When  I  ran  about  the  village,  the  wind 
blew  the  thoughts  about  as  it  did  my  hair ;  but  now  my 
brains  are  like  cobwebs,  aud  when  a  thought  touches  them 


III  'u't'^' 


I  ■  ;,' 


glance. 

m    she 

mured, 

in  her 

would 

ended 

to  tUy 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


255 


it  clings  like  dust,  and  so  they  grow  thicker  and  heavier 
until  my  very  skull  aches ; "  and  she  pressed  her  head 
with  her  hands,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"But  to  think  is  not  to  dream,"  said  Florencia,  in 
some  disappointment,  for  she  had  a  child's  love  for  the 
marvellous,  and  did  not  understand  Chinita's  abstrac- 
tions,—  unstudied  and  simple  though  they  were. 

"  But  dreams  come  from  thoughts,"  answered  Chinita ; 
"  and  what  should  I  think  of  here  but  of  mysteries,  — 
such  as  why  the  Seiiora  should  keep  me  with  her,  though 
she  loves  me  not ;  why  she  walks  the  floor  and  counts  her 
beads,  and  when  she  forgets  I  am  in  the  room  murmurs 
over  and  over  the  name  of  Herlinda ;  why  she  looks  before 
her  sometimes,  as  you  used  to  tell  me  tiie  woman  looked 
who  saw  the  ghost  of  the  American,  —  and  that  is  always 
when  she  chances  to  meet  this  Don  'Guardo  whom  she  will 
not  speak  of,  or  suffer  Doiia  Feliz  to  invite  to  our  table, 
though  he  stays  here  so  long.  And  after  I  have  asked  so 
many  things,  I  set  myself  to  the  answer.  Oh,  you  would 
wonder  at  what  I  say  to  myself  of  all  these  things,  —  and 
then  sometimes  come  dreams  to  tell  me  I  am  right." 

Florencia  looked  at  the  door  vaguely,  —  she  was 
thinking  perhaps  she  had  better  go. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  continued  Chinita,  as  if  to  herself,  "  I  am 
growing  perhaps  like  the  owl,  —  I,  who  in  the  broad  sun- 
light saw  nothing,  have  discovered  many  things  here  in  the 
dark.  Well,  well,  Florencia,  one  thought  came  to  me  on  a 
vexed  night  when  I  could  not  sleep.  I  had  been  talking 
io  Doiia  Feliz  that  day.  I  know  not  why,  but  I  am  with 
Doiia  Feliz  like  the  3'oung  fox  my  god-father  tamed,  — 
when  I  touched  him  with  my  hand  he  was  pleased,  j'et  he 
bristled  and  longed  to  bite.  Good  I  we  had  talked  that 
day.  Yes,  —  it  was  of  the  nuns,  and  she  said  the  Seiiora 
might  desire  I  should  be  one ;  and  I  was  angry,  and  said  I 
would  not  be  shut  up  to  pray  as  the  Seilorita  Herlinda 
had  been ;  and  then  Doiia  Feliz  bade  me  be  silent  and 
ponder  what  she  had  said.  And  after  she  went  away  it 
was  not  of  myself  I  thought,  but  of  the  Scfiorita  Herlinda ; 
and  in  the  midst  of  my  thoughts  I  saw  the  American  pass 
the  court,  and  Dofia  Isabel,  who  was  near,  turned  herself 
away,  as  if  an  adder  had  darted  upon  her." 

Florencia  looked  up  with  u  mute  inquiry  or  fascination  in 


I 


25G 


CHATA   AND   CHtNITA. 


wM  \ 


f.Mi 


H\  I 


her  gaze.  Chinita,  in  a  sort  of  monotone,  followed  the 
thread  of  her  thoughts. 

"  When  I  went  to  sleep  at  last,  I  dreamed  that  I, 
though  still  Chinita,  was  Herlinda,  and  that  the  American 
who  was  lying  wounded  in  the  room  below  came  up  the 
stairs,  and  tapped  lightly  at  my  window.  I  b  topped  softly 
and  looked  out  at  him  through  the  grating.  Ah,  it  was 
this  Don  'Guardo,  yet  so  different,  as  a  man  is  different 
from  his  reflection  in  a  glass :  and  I  did  not  wonder  to  see 
him  there.  I  put  my  hand  out  and  touched  him,  and  was 
happy.  And  as  I  stood  at  the  bars,  —  I  myself,  and  yet 
the  nina  Herlinda.  —  the  man  of  my  dream  said,  as  a  hus- 
band says  to  his  wife,  '  Open,  my  life ; '  and  when  I 
opened  the  door  he  led  in  by  the  hand  a  little  child,  —  I 
knew  it  to  be  his  child,  though  it  had  not  blue  eyes  nor 
the  yellow  hair.  Well,  I  stood  there,  and  stood  there, 
find  strove  tc  speak  and  could  not ;  and  the  vision  of  the 
man  and  of  the  child  faded,  and  the  thought  that  I  was 
still  Herlinda  faded  too,  and  the  dream  was  ended." 

She  ceased  speaking,  and  looked  at  Florencia  with  a 
vague  yet  searching  gaze. 

"  By  my  faith,  a  strange  dream  ! "  murmured  Florencia, 
disquieted.  "  You  should  have  lighted  a  blessed  candle 
when  you  woke,  and  passed  it  before  you  three  times,  say- 
ing an  Ave  each  time.  Santa  Inez !  I  would  rather  ace 
the  ghost  of  the  American  than  dream  such  a  dream  i  " 

*'  Co'.vard !  it  frightened  me  not,"  continued  the  girl. 
"  And  I  did  not  seem  to  wake,  though  I  knew  that  I, 
Chinit?',  lay  in  the  bed,  and  that  my  head  sank  deep  in 
the  soft  pillow,  and  that  I  could  not  or  would  not  raise  it ; 
and  the  meaning  of  the  dream  crept  into  my  mind,  as  the 
light  creeps  into  a  dark  room.  Yes,  I  felt  as  I  used  to 
when  I  saw  the  little  green  blades  shoot  up  in  the  spring, 
and  I  could  think  how  the  corn  would  grow,  and  the  leaves 
would  wave,  and  tbe  maize  would  lie  in  the  silk  and  the 
y<jllow  sheath ;  and  so  I  had  thought  of  what  I  had  heard, 
—  of  the  love  of  Herlinda  for  the  American,  and  what 
might  have  come  of  it." 

"Hush!"  interrupted  Florencia  with  a  scared  look. 
*'  You  said  you  dreamed  of  a  child.    Did  you  see  its  face  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Chinita,  slowly.  "  But  what  need  that 
I  should  see  it  ?  " 


ito 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


257 


The  two  had  risen  as  if  b}-^  one  impulse,  and  looked  into 
cacli  other's  eyes.  The  woman  was  awed  as  much  b^-  the 
penetration  and  daring  of  the  young  girl's  mind  as  by  the 
thought  that  for  the  first  time  arose  within  her. 

She  cast  her  thoughts  back.  She  had  been  young  when 
the  American  was  murdered,  when  the  Seiiorita  Herlinda 
had  left  the  hacienda  never  to  return,  when  the  child  had 
been  found  at  the  gate ;  yet  she  wondered  that  she  had 
been  so  blind  to  what  now  appeared  so  plain,  and  that  all 
alike  —  the  wise  and  simple,  the  c'l  and  j'oung  —  had 
been  so  utterly  dazzled  by  the  glamor  that  surrounded  the 
family  of  Garcia  that  no  suspicion  of  dishonor  might  at- 
tach to  its  women,  or  of  cowardice  to  its  men.  Surely 
none  other  than  Herlinda  Garcia  would  have  escaped 
the  lynx-eyed  Selsa,  or  a  score  of  other  scandal-loving 
women  !  Curiously  enough,  while  a  feeling  of  detraction 
for  the  nun,  whom  she  had  long  been  used  to  canonize 
in  her  thoughts,  stole  into  her  mind,  a  sensation  of 
traditional  reverence  for  the  Garcia  arose  for  the  young 
girl  before  her.  Floreneia's  ideas  of  moralit}'  were  per- 
haps vague  on  all  points ;  they  certainly  did  not  reach 
that  of  aspersion  of  the  innocent  fruit  of  another's  fault. 

*'  Ay,  nina"  the  woman  said  at  last  with  a  gasp,  "  it 
is  not  every  one  who  drinks  red  wine  that  is  happy. 
Thanks  to  God,  the  peasant  woman  who  carries  a  burden 
in  her  arms  too  soon  needs  only  to  suckle  it  under  her 
scarf,  like  any  mother,  and  needs  not  o  close  upon  her- 
self the  doors  of  a  convent.  Santa  Maria !  who  would 
have  thought  such  things  of  the  nina  Herlinda?" 

"  Be  silent !  "  cried  Chinita,  with  a  tardy  repentance  of 
her  confidence.  *'  How  do  I  know  that  I  am  not  the 
worst  of  evil  thinkers,  and  a  fool,  a  very  fool  ?  Look  thou, 
Florencia,  it  is  thou  who  shall  discover  the  truth  for  me. 
Pedro  is  gone ;  perhaps  he  never  knew  it.  The  Tio  Reyes 
must  know ;  but  where  is  he  ?  Yet  I  must  know.  Oh,  I 
could  bear  the  truth  from  Feliz,  from  Dona  Isabel ;  but 
they  are  as  silent  and  as  sorrowful  as  the  imago  of  the 
Madre  Dolores.  It  is  thou,  Florencia,  who  must  help  me. 
Oh,  it  will  be  but  a  diversion  for  thee.  Thou  shalt  talk  of 
thy  Tio  Pedro,  and  of  the  day  I  was  dropped  in  his  hand, 
and  of  the  da3's  that  went  before.  Thou  canst  talk  now 
of  the  murder  of  the  American,  and  of  the  Seiiorita  Her- 

17 


258 


CIIATA   AND  CiriNlTA. 


:i\\ 


\l>\i 


iifn# 


linda  too,  and  there  will  be  no  Pedro  to  chide  thee.  And 
sec,  —  "  as  the  woman  began  some  faint  objection,  —  "I 
have  all  the  pretty  things  Pedro  gave  me,  and  money 
too ;  yes,  more  than  thou  wouldst  think.  And  thou  shall 
never  miss  thy  uncle ,  thou  shalt  have  them  all,  if  thou 
wilt  but  talk  to  the  old  women  of  things  that  happened 
here  before  the  time  of  the  great  sickness.  But,  Florencia, 
thou  must  tell  them  nothing.  Oh,  if  I  could  only  run 
again  in  and  out  of  the  village  huts  as  I  used  to  do !  " 

Florencia  looked  at  the  excited  girl  with  a  nod  of  intelli- 
gence. "Have  no  fear,"  she  said;  "it  is  not  possible 
that  Florencia  knows  not  how  to  manage  her  own  tongue, 
though  no  one  knows  better  than  thyself  it  was  ever  a 
quiet  one.  But  it  shall  wag  now,  and  not  like  the  dog's 
tail,  in  mere  idleness." 

Chinita  laughed,  then  glancing  around  her  warily,  drew 
from  her  bosom  a  small  gold  coin.  She  had  evidently 
prepared  herself  for  a  chance  meeting  with  Florencia. 

"  Take  it,"  she  said,  "  and  go.  Thou  hast  been  here  too 
long  already  ;  and,"  she  added  with  the  Hush  of  red  again 
tingeing  her  face,  "  talk  and  gossip  when  the  American  is 
near.  He  must  be  sad,  —  it  will  cheer  him  to  hear  the 
voices,  even  if  he  understands  but  little ;  and  if  by 
chance  he  speaks  to  thee,  why !  thou  shalt  tell  me 
what  he  says." 

Florencia  had  experienced  one  great  surprise  that 
morning,  and  here  was  another ;  the  first  had  awed, 
the  second  delighted  her.  Like  all  her  race  she  had  the 
instincts  of  secrecy  and  Intrigue,  and  suddenly  the  op- 
portunity to  practise  both  were  offered  her.  She  looked 
at  Chinita  with  a  glance  of  infinite  cunning  in  her  soft 
dark  eyes ;  but  the  young  girl  would  not  meet  her  gaze. 
"  Go,  go ! "  she  said  impatiently ;  "  you  have  been 
here  too  long.  The  Senora  is  coming  —  or  is  it  Doiia 
Feliz?    Go!  go,  I  say!" 

It  was  neither  Dona  Isabel  nor  Feliz,  but  only  Chata, 
who  entered  with  a  preoccupied  air,  scarcely  noticing  the 
woman  who  passed  her  on  the  threshold.  She  did  not 
speak,  however,  until  Florencia  had  reluctantly  passed 
out  of  hearing;  and  then  she  cried  eagerly,  "Chinita! 
Chinita !  who  is  the  stranger  who  stood  with  thee  at  the 

thought  I  saw  the  ghost  of 


doorway  ?    God  bless  us !     I 


C//ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


259 


the  American  we  used  to  talk  of;  and  but  now  I  met 
him  below  in  the  court.  Who  is  he?  What  is  he  here 
for?" 

"  That  remains  to  be  seen,"  answered  Chinita,  with  an 
uneasy  laugh.  Her  hasty  confidence  in  Florencia  troubled 
her,  and  closed  her  lips  toward  the  friend  for  whom  she 
had  hitherto  longed.  "  At  least  the  stranger  is  no  ghost ; 
yet  how  can  we  know  that  the  man  who  was  murdered 
here  so  many  years  before  was  anything  to  him  ?  " 

"But  I  do  know,"  insisted  Chata.  "I  had  gone  to 
the  arbor,  thinking  thou  mightest  be  there,  to  break  my 
fast.  I  was  standing  in  the  centre,  with  my  eyes  turned 
toward  this  room,  thinking  I  should  see  thee  leave  it,  and 
thinking  too  of  the  nina  Herlinda, —  O  Chinita !  she  is  still 
so  beautiful, —  when  I  heard  a  step  behind  me.  It  was  a 
strange  step,  and  1  turned  quickly  and  saw  the  American 
looking  at  me  as  if  he  too  believed  he  saw  a  ghost.  Was 
it  not  strange,  Chinita  ?  We  looked  at  each  other  quite 
steadily  for  many  moments,  then  he  said,  — 

"  '  Pardon  me,  you  arc  then  the  daughter  of  the  admin- 
istrador  ?    You  came  here  yesterday  ? ' 

"  I  could  scarcely  make  out  his  words,  yet  I  understood 
what  he  said,  and  I  seemed  to  know  that  he  had  taken  me 
for  another, — perhaps  for  thee,  Chinita;  and  then  again 
he  said,  '  Pardon  me  !  Pardon  me  ! '  and  we  still  con- 
tinued to  look  at  each  other ;  and  I  did  not  think  how 
bold  I  must  appear  until  the  other  stranger,  the  young 
officer  who  loves  Rosario,  stepped  out  of  the  room  they 
have  given  him.  I  heard  his  spurs  clank  on  the  pavement, 
and  then  I  fled  away  to  thee.  But  for  the  fright,  I  should 
not  have  dared  to  come  hither,  Chinita.  AH  yesterday 
my  grandmother  kept  me  from  thee.  She  said  now  thou 
art  the  child  of  Dona  Isabel,  and  that  without  leave  I 
must  not  go  to  thee." 

"  Chata,  thou  hast  a  poor  spirit!  "  exclaimed  Chinita, 
with  some  severity,  —  though  she  remembered  witli  im- 
patient anger  that  Doiia  Isabel  had  kept  her  in  the  gar- 
den at  her  side,  on  pretence  of  showing  her  the  strings 
of  irregular  pearls,  which  she  Should  some  day  arrange 
in  even  strands.  Dofia  Isabel  had  made  no  promise, 
but  Chinita  could  almost  see  them  in  the  future  be- 
decking her  own  neck  and  arms.     She  had  been  beguiled, 


1! 


I 


m 


m 


I'  '3 
i-   I 


i. 


2G0 


CHATA   AND  CniNITA. 


i-^«- 


^  i  .1 


IP),i!^'' 


J     « 


IT'-' 


!/.  •' 


VV,     ( 


even  as  Chnta  had  been  commanded,  to  keep  apart  from 
her  old  playmate. 

"There  is  a  m3'stery  in  it  all!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Though  I  am  here  with  Dona  Isabel,  I  know  not  who  I 
am.  It  is  intoipiablo!  Sometimes  I  fear  I  am  but  her 
plaything,  ^vith  no  mere  right  to  her  notice  than  had  the 
fawn  I  foi  '  s*  -^u  ^''0  river  bank  and  petted,  till  it  died  from 
very  lieartL  .ik  b  'lause  it  longed  so  for  the  mountains 
and  its  kina.  And  -/  I  long,  Chata.  Ah,  thou  knowest 
not  what  it  is  to  be  a  nameless  wretch,  to  be  tossed  from 
hand  to  hand,  and  have  no  share  in  the  game  but  the 
dizzy  whirling  through  the  air.  Pshaw !  I  would  rather 
be  dashed  to  pieces  against  the  first  wall  than  go  through 
life  with  nothing  but  favor  to  rely  on.  I  want  a  name ,  a 
place,  a  right.  I  will  have  them  :  even  you,  who  arc  the 
daughter  of  the  administrador,  have  those  ;  and  I —  Well, 
I  will  not  be  simply  Chinita^  whom  Dona  Isabel  makes 
a  lady  to-day,  who  was  a  child  of  the  Madonna  yesterday, 
and  may  be  a  beggar  to-morrow." 

Chata  had  been  leaning  on  the  arm  and  pressing  her 
head  against  the  shoulder  of  Chinita.  She  raised  it  now 
with  a  sharp  low  cry,  and  turned  away.  Little  guessed  the 
impetuous,  ambitious  foundUng  how  her  words  tortured 
and  taunted  the  other,  who  longed  to  crj'  out,  "I  too 
am  no  one !  I  too  am  a  stray,  a  waif,  and  if  I  know  my 
father,  know  him  only  as  a  terror,  —  a  horror. "  Her 
promise  to  Dona  Rita  silenced  her.  She  felt  there  was 
but  one  person  in  the  world  to  whom  she  would  break  her 
promise,  —  the  pale,  sweet-faced  nun  of  the  convent  of  El 
Toro.  In  her  passionate,  bitter  mood  Chinita  chilled  and 
silenced  her.  She  did  not  even  tell  her  that  as  she  has- 
tened from  the  arbor  the  American  had  caught  the  end  of 
her  flying  reboso,  as  if  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  and 
cried:  " I  am  Ashley  Ward !  Ashley!  Ashley!  remember 
the  name ! " 

Remember  it !  it  seemed  to  Chata  as  if  she  had  always 
known  the  man  as  well  as  the  name,  which  had  ever  before 
been  to  her  the  symbol  of  the  dead  rather  than  of  the  liv- 
ing. That  she  should  hAve  seen  the  Senorita  Herlinda, 
whom  she  had  alwa^^s  known  to  be  alive,  seemed  more 
wonderful,  more  incredible  to  her  mind,  than  that  the 
young  man  should  have  risen   before  her  to  claiia  the 


lleavei 
for  fea 
all  the 
there  a 
one  wh 
"Chi 
you  are 
should 
as  Ros 
be  a  wc 
loves 
break." 
Chata 
threw  he 
It  rang 
in    the 
clasped 

"  Wh£ 

should 


m 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


261 


■e  wa8 
akher 
of  El 
id  and 
lie  lias- 
end  of 
,  and 
icmber 

ilv?ays 
,  before 
the  liv- 
Irlinda, 
more 
lat  the 
■iin  the 


narao  of  the  murdered  foreigner.  Now  that  he  had  come, 
she  seemed  all  her  life  to  have  been  expecting  him.  She 
did  not  see  him  again  for  days,  but  all  tliat  time  the 
expression  of  his  eyes  haunted  her.  Slie  could  not 
fathom  it.  She  did  not  guess  it  had  been  but  a  rellection 
of  the  surprise,  yet  conviction,  in  her  own. 

Chata  did  not  again  transgress  the  conmuiuds  of  Dona 
Feliz  ;  nor  did  she  remain  long  enough  with  Chiuita  in  her 
llrst  visit  to  be  tempted  into  further  conddence.  ln("  jd, 
they  parted  with  something  like  a  quarrel,  as  they  liii 
been  used  to  do  in  their  childhood's  days,  llosario's  'uuuij 
had  been  mentioned,  and  Cliinita  had  with  some  &coru 
commented  both  on  iier  sentimental  air  and  the  iudilfer- 
ence  of  her  lover. 

"Did  he  love  her  at  El  Toro?"  she  asked  -ith  the 
laugh  that  was  so  mocking.  "  He  stood  for  an  h  .r,  you 
say,  at  the  corner  of  the  street  waiting  for  a  glance  from 
her ;  he  wrote  verses  bj'^  da\'  and  sang  them  by  night  be- 
neath her  window?  Well,  he  stood  from  noon  till  night 
yesterday  with  his  eyes  ttu'ned  upward,  —  one  would  have 
tliought  he  had  never  gazed  at  anything  lower  than  the 
sky ;  yet  it  was  only  for  a  gUmpse  of  my  face,  and  a  single 
glance  from  my  eyes  dazzled  and  blinded  him.  Thank 
Heaven,  he  dare  not  tune  a  guitar  beneath  my  windows 
for  fear  of  Dona  Isabel,  or  I  should  be  tormented  with 
all  the  old  rhymes  changed  from  Rosario  to  Chinita.  Ah, 
there  are  likings  and  likings,  and  this  pretty  soldier  is 
one  who  would  try  them  all !  " 

"Chinita,"  cried  Cliata  in  indignation,  "  you  are  false, 
you  are  cruel  I  Rosario  has  done  nothing  to  you  that  you 
should  torment  her.  I  understand  nothing  of  such  things 
as  Rosario  does ;  though  I  am  her  age,  she  seems  to 
be  a  woman  while  I  am  still  a  child.  But  she  says  she 
loves  Fernando,  and  for  love  a  woman's  heart  may 
break." 

Chata  was  thinking  of  the  pale,  sad  nun ;  but  Chinita 
threw  herself  into  a  chair  and  broke  into  a  peal  of  laughter. 
It  rang  through  the  silent  house,  and  startled  Dofia  Isabel 
in  the  further  chamber.  She  started  nervously  and 
clasped  her  hands  over  her  ears. 

"  What  a  strange  child  it  is."  she  uuirmured,  "  Ah,  I 
should  have  loved  her  if —  "     She  glanced  at  a  note  she 


\\ 


M,!       ! 


202 


C/fATA   AND   CHINITA, 


had  ju8t  written.    It  was  addressed  to  Vicente  Gonzalca, 
and  promised  liim  a  tlic    land  mounted  soldiers. 

Dona  Isabel  made  no  idle  promises,  and  she  had  counted 
well  the  cost  when  she  had  thus  irrevocably  committed  her- 
self to  the  cause  of  the  Liberals.  She  liad  watched  for 
years  the  course  of  events,  and  none  saw  more  clearly 
than  she  that  the  time  for  passiveness  had  gone.  On 
every  hand  there  must  necessarily  be  sacrifice.  "  That 
which  goes  not  in  sighs,  must  in  tears,"  she  said  senten- 
tiously.  "I  Uke  not  the  Indian  Juarez,  yet  his  policy 
promises  deliverance  from  the  vampire  that  for  genera- 
tions has  grown  strong  and  ever  stronger,  as  it  has 
drained  the  very  life  of  the  nation." 

The  knowledge  that  Gonzales  was  in  El  Toro  enjoying 
the  prestige  of  an  accidental  victory,  but  with  a  force 
entirely  insulHcient  to  meet  that  which  Ramirez  might  at 
any  day  bring  against  him,  had  been  the  immediate  cause 
of  her  action.  To  reward  Pedro  with  a  service  which 
should  at  once  remove  him  from  her  sight  and  fill  his  mind 
with  new  and  absorbing  interests,  were  the  reasons  why 
he  had  been  chosen  to  ride  from  rancho  to  ranclio  secretly 
inciting  the  men  to  join  the  standard,  which  was  to  be 
raised  upon  the  morrow. 

"  Ah,  this  Ruiz  is  a  poor  tool ! "  muttered  Dona  Isabel, 
*'  yet  for  that  reason  may  be  the  more  readily  bought. 
He  loves  the  daughter  of  my  administrador,  and  will  do 
much  to  gain  my  good  word.  Rafael  says  he  is  a  brave 
soldier,  if  a  false  one ;  and  there  will  be  those  with  him 
who  will  guard  against  treachery.  He  shall  fulfil  his 
empty  offer  to  lead  a  thousand  men  to  Gonzales,  and 
claim  of  Rafael  the  reward  he  sighs  for.  Ah,  there  is 
the  child's  laugh  again,  —  I  could  almost  fancy  it  in 
mockery  of  me !  Ah,  this  of  patriot  is  a  new  role  for 
me,  and  tries  my  nerves.  Well,  Chinita  shall  laugh  while 
she  can :  if  it  is  for  long,  it  will  prove  her  none  of  the 
l)lood  of  Garcia.  Was  there  evor  a  happj-  woman  among 
them?" 

While  Dona  Isabel  pondered  thus,  Chnta  in  deep  indig- 
nation had  turned  from  her  whilom  friend.  She  had  been 
brouglit  up  among  a  people  who  in  matters  of  love  held 
man  excused  and  woman  guilty  in  all  cases  of  inconstancy. 
"  Farewell !  "  she  exclaimed,  ''  I  will  come  no  more  to  vou 


it  in 
jle  for 

while 
J  of  the 
lainong 

intlig- 
Id  been 
ire  held 

itancy. 

I  to  vou 


CIIATA   AND  ClilNITA. 


2G3 


who  arc  so  cruel.  Dofin  Isabel  was  right  to  part  us  ;  she 
has  changed  your  heart  as  she  has  your  fortune.  Ah  !  " 
she  added  bitterly,  "  all  the  world  is  changed  to  me,  and 
wliy  not  you  ?  " 

The  grieved  and  imbittercd  girl  went  out  so  quickly 
that  Chinita's  answer  did  not  reach  her.  As  she  i)assed 
through  the  corridor  Chata  glanced  down.  The  young 
officer  stood  there,  as  Chinita  had  described.  Ho  wouhl 
catch  the  first  glimpse  of  her  as  she  left  her  room.  Chata 
flushed  in  anger,  yet  tears  of  pity  rose  to  her  eyes.  She 
was  still  a  child,  yet  her  heart  foretold  what  might  br  ^he 
agony  of  woman's  slighted  love. 

P>cn  so  soon  Chinita  was  laughing  no  longer ;  she  had 
crouched  forward  and  sat  with  her  face  bent  almost  to  her 
knees.  "  What  have  I  done?"  she  asked  herself.  "  It 
is  early  morning  still,  and  I  have  told  a  secret  to  a  fool, 
and  ofiended  her  I  should  have  trusted !  " 

She  had  eaten  nothing ;  the  excitement  under  which  she 
had  acted  suddenly  expired,  and  she  burst  into  sobs  and 
tears.  Doiia  Feliz  coming  in  a  few  minutes  later,  found 
her  on  her  knees  before  the  little  image  of  her  patron 
saint,  passionately  vowing  the  gift  of  a  silver  Christo  in 
return  for  the  boon  she  craved. 

''Go  to  the  corridor,  my  child,"  said  Feliz  pityingly'. 
The  girl  was  a  problem  to  her,  which  every  day  seemed 
more  dilficult  of  solution.  "  You  look  weary  and  ill ;  but 
console  yourself,  —  Pedro  is  safe.  You  will  see  the  good 
foster-father  again,  be  assured." 

Chinita  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  She  had  for  the 
time  forgotten  Pedro's  very  existence.  Dona  Feliz  dis- 
cerned at  once  that  she  had  credited  the  girl  with  a  sensi- 
bility to  which  she  was  a  stranger.  Five  minutes  later 
she  was  quite  certain  of  it,  as  Chinita  sat  on  the  corri- 
dor, apparently  equally  unconscious  of  the  impassioned 
glances  of  Ruiz,  or  those  of  the  invisible  but  infuriate 
Rosario,  drawing  the  threads  of  some  dainty  linen  and 
singing,— 

Sale  la  Linda, 

Sale  la  fea, 
Sale  el  enano, 

Con  su  galea. 


I  i 


! 


5    ^ 


!f 


4. 


li     !: 


^i-^ 


264  CJ/ATA   AND  CIIINITA. 

"  Tho  boautv  conius  out, 
The  ugly  oiiu  too; 
Tliun  cuuiuH  tho  dwarf, 
With  a  gay  halloo." 

As  unstudied  and  inconsequent  as  the  meaningless 
words  of  tho  song  seemed  the  actions  of  tho  singer,  but 
Feliz  shook  her  head,  and  met  Dona  Isabel  with  a  face 
tliut  was  even  more  serious  than  its  wont.  The  problem 
became  to  her  mind  each  day  more  complicated.  Would 
the  result  be  bitterness,  and  that  grief  most  dreaded  by 
the  proud  heart  of  Du&u  Isabel  Gaicia,  —  the  grief  and 
bitterness  of  shamo? 


iji-v: 


XXIX. 

Florencia  fulfilled  her  raUsion  well,  —  rccallinp;  skilfully 
to  the  minds  of  the  elder  gossips  the  events  and  doubts  of 
years  ugone,  tmd  those  suspieions,  light  as  air,  whieh  had 
once  before  menaced  the  fair  name  and  fame  of  her 
wlio  later  had  been  revered  as  a  saint  under  the  name  of 
Sister  Veronica. 

It  was  natural  atlcr  the  excitement  of  Pedro's  disap- 
pearance had  subsided  that  reminiscences  of  events  in 
whieh  he  had  figured  should,  in  default  of  some  new  in- 
terest, rise  to  the  stagnant  surface  of  hacienda  life,  and  be 
re-colored  and  adorned  with  suggestions  probable  or  im- 
probable, and  that  the  favorite  topic  should  be  torn  to 
Bhrcds  in  its  dissection,  wiiile  the  motive  power  of  its  a^)- 
pearancc  should  in  the  excitement  of  discussion  be  utterly 
lost  sight  of.  Florencia  herself,  in  the  interest  of  tracing 
the  sequence  of  events,  and  in  hearing  attributed  to  the 
characters  that  had  figured  in  her  girlhood  traits  and 
deeds  of  which  she  had  heard  little  or  nothing  at  that 
bygone  time,  almost  forgot  that  she  was  talking  with  a 
purpose,  and  therefore  perhaps  had  a  truly  unprejudiced 
account  to  give  to  Chinita,  —  when  she  could  again  see  her, 
for  Dona  Isabel  had  become  a  wary  duenna,  and  the  girl 
had  had  no  opportunity  of  learning  anything  that  might 
have  throv  n  light  upon  the  theory  she  had  formed  of  her 
birth  and  i)fj  rentage. 

In  his  insullicicnt  knowledge  of  the  language,  Ashley 
Ward  let  much  of  the  gossip  of  the  women  wlio  chatted 
about  him  as  thej'  performed  their  dally  tasks  pass  en- 
tirely' nnhecded,  while  he  pondered  upon  the  very  subjects 
which  with  more  or  less  directness  were  discussed.  But 
one  morning  he  caught  the  name  of  Hcrlinda,  and  thence- 
forth all  his  senses  were  alert.  Great  was  his  surprise 
when  he  discovered  this  to  be  the  name  of  a  daughter 
of  Dona  Isabel  who  had  been  a  beautiful  girl  when  the 


HI 


266 


CHATA  AND  CHINTTA. 


S-ii 


m 


riuf 


w^- 


American  was  killed,  and  thenceforward  his  mind  became 
preternaturally  keen ;  so  that  he  divined  the  meanings  of 
words  he  had  never  heard  before,  —  gestures,  glances, 
the  very  inflection  of  a  tone,  became  revelations  to  him. 

Hitherto,  without  cogitating  upon  the  matter,  Ward  had 
naturally  assumed  from  hearing  no  reference  to  another 
that  the  newly  married  Carmen  was  the  only  child  of  Dona 
Isabel.  Now  he  learned  the  tragical  fate  of  Norberto  anu 
the  existence  of  the  elder  and  more  beautiful  daughter 
lierlinda,  the  cloistered  nun ;  and  she  was  for  the  time 
the  theme  of  endless  reminiscences  and  conjectures.  Her 
winsome  childhood ;  her  early  gayety  and  incomparable 
beauty ;  the  open  love  of  Gonzales  ;  the  suspected  mutual 
attachment  of  the  young  American  and  the  daring  child, 
who  with  her  mother's  pride  had  failed  to  inherit  her 
mother's  strength  of  will ;  the  murder  of  John  Ashlej'' ; 
the  time  of  the  great  sickness  ;  the  death  of  Mademoiselle 
La  Croix ;  the  effect  of  the  shock  and  horror  upon  the 
mind  and  appearance  of  Herlinda ;  the  scarcely  whispered, 
faint,  yet  not  wholly  disproved  suspicions  which  had 
floated  over  the  name  and  fame  of  the  daughter  of  a  house 
too  absolute  in  its  ascendency  and  power  to  be  lightlj'  at- 
tacked ;  her  removal  from  the  hacienda ;  her  strange  re- 
jection of  the  suit  of  one  who  had  always  been  dear  to  her, 
and  to  whom  her  mother,  in  accordance  with  good  and 
seemly  usage,  had  pledged  her ;  her  renunciation  of  the 
world  she  had  loved,  and  entrance  to  a  convent,  which  she 
bad  held  in  horror,  —  all  these  circumstances  were  dis- 
cussed from  a  dozen  points  of  view. 

And  all  he  heard  confirmed  in  Ashley's  mind  the  belief 
that  the  woman  whom  his  cousin  had  loved  was  traced  ;  that 
whether  she  had  been  actuall}'^  a  wife  or  no,  she,  Herlinda 
Garcia,  the  daughter  of  a  woman  whom  it  would  be  a 
mortal  offence  to  approach  upon  such  a  subject,  was  the 
possible  mother  of  a  child  which  he  could  scarcely  refuse 
to  believe  existed, — though  here  a  new  perplexity  con- 
fronted him  as  (like  tlie  young  otficor,  whom  he  regarded 
with  a  half-contcniptuous  amusement  tiiat  shouUi  have 
prevented  him  from  following  any  example  set  by  so 
love-lorn  a  cavalier)  he  began  to  seek  occasion  for  ob- 
serving Chinita  with  an  intensity  that  made  her  doubly  the 
object  of  J'c  jealous  and  ireful  dislike  of  liosario  and  her 


^s 


belief 

(1 ;  that 

crlinda 

be  a 

as  the 

refuse 
y  con- 
'(jjarded 
i   have 

by  so 
for  ob- 
bly  the 
lud  bcr 


CfTATA   AND   CHINITA. 


2G7 


mother.  To  his  alert  and  dispassionate  mind  circumstan- 
ces pointed  to  this  girl  as  the  possible  link  between  the 
families  of  Ashley  and  Garcia,  though  the  most  minute 
and  patient  observation  only  seemed  to  make  absurd  tlic 
supposition  that  American  blood  mingled  in  the  Ii(!iy 
tide  which  filled  her  veins,  colored  her  rich  beauty,  and 
vivified  the  scornful  and  stoical  yet  ambitious  spirit, 
which  as  by  a  spell  at  the  same  moment  repelled  yet 
charmed  both  himself  and  the  haugiity  Doiia  Isabel.  What 
was  the  secret  of  the  foundling's  infiuence  ?  He  cared  not 
to  analyze  either  his  own  mind  or  the  irresistible  fas- 
cination of  Chinita ;  but  that  the  girl,  though  not  posi- 
tively beautiful,  and  unmistakably  repellent  in  her  caustic 
yet  stoical  discontent  and  ambitious  unrest,  possessed  a 
bewitching  and  bewildering  grace  far  different  from  any 
he  had  ever  beheld  in  woman,  of  whatever  race  or  kin- 
dred, impressed  him  daily  more  and  more  deeply,  while  — 
But  stubborn  facts  made  speculation  and  efforts  at  inquiry 
alike  futile. 

As  days  passed  on,  a  certain  friendship  sprang  up  be- 
tween Ward  and  Don  Rafael.  They  talked  for  hours 
over  the  political  situation, — Ashley  straining  ear  and 
mind  co  comprehend  the  administrador's  smooth  and  im- 
pressive utterances,  and  Don  Rafael  with  grave  politeness 
listening  without  a  smile  or  gesture  of  amusement  to  the 
hesitating  and  often  utterly  incomprehensible  attempts  of 
the  young  American  to  deliver  his  opinions,  or  to  make 
minute  inquiry  into  reasons  and  events  which  often  horrified 
as  well  as  puzzled  him.  Don  Rafael  had  the  air  of  sim- 
plicity and  candor  which  is  so  infinitely  attractive  to  the 
stranger,  and  which  presented  so  great  a  contrast  to  the 
lofty  coldness  of  Doiia  Isabel  and  the  grave  and  nielan- 
cholv  reticence  of  Feliz.  Their  demeanor  left  the  bafiUno; 
and  depressing  conviction  that  there  was  an  infinit}'  that 
tlu'y  might  reveal  were  but  the  right  chord  touched  ;  while 
that  of  Don  Rafael  was  satisfying  in  its  cordiality,  even 
while  no  response  fulfilled  the  expectation  that  his  fluent 
and  kindly  frankness  a})i)oarod   fo  onconr.'igo. 

As  soon  as  the  state  of  his  wound  permitted,  Ashley 
joined  the  admlnistrador  in  his  early  morning  rides  to  the 
fields  and  pastures,  and  learned  nuich  of  the  workings  of 
a  great  hacienda.     These  rides  were  conlined  to  the  iin- 


! 


1^ 


I 

I 


1    'l!!'^ 


268 


CIIATA  AND   CHINITA. 


W-  ^ 


mr 


^  1 


N' 


^r 


mediate  neighborhood  of  the  great  house,  and  four  or  six 
armed  men  were  invariably  in  attendance,  —  for,  as  Don 
Rafael  explained  with  a  smile,  the  administrador  of  the 
rich  hacienda  of  Tres  Hermanos  was  invested  with  the  dig- 
nity of  its  possessors,  his  personal  insignificance  being 
absorbed  in  the  state  of  those  he  represented ;  so  that  his 
person  bore  a  fictitious  value,  and  if  seized  by  an  enemy, 
either  personal  or  political,  would  doubtless  be  held  at  a 
prince's  ransom,  which  the  honor  as  well  as  the  interest  of 
his  employers  would  force  them  to  pay. 

In  the  course  of  these  rides  they  not  infrequently  ap- 
l)roaclied  the  deserted  reduction- works,  and  it  was  upon 
the  first  occasion  that  this  happened  that  Don  Rafael 
questioned  the  young  American  as  to  his  relationship  to 
the  last  director;  and  upon  ^earning  it,  rehearsed  with 
deep  feeling  the  story  of  his  murder,  pointing  out  the  very 
tree  under  which  the  bloody  tragedy  was  enacted. 

Ashley  watched  his  countenance  narrowly  as  he  tallied. 
His  words,  whose  meaning  might  have  been  obscure  to 
tlie  foreigner,  were  rendered  dramatic  by  the  deep  pathos 
of  his  tone  and  the  expressive  force  of  his  gestures  ;  even 
the  men  who  rode  behind  drew  near  as  his  voice  rose  on 
the  stillness  of  the  air  in  a  tale  so  foreign  to  the  peace  and 
beauty  of  the  scene.  As  they  sidrted  the  low  adobe  wall 
and  looked  over  upon  the  stagnant  masses  of  mineral  cla}', 
the  piles  of  broken  ores,  the  adobe  sheds  and  stables 
crumbling  under  rain  and  sun,  Ashley  was  read}'  to  credit 
the  whispered  words  with  which  Don  Rafael  ended  his 
narration ;  '*  Seiior,  it  is  said  in  the  silent  night,  when 
the  moon  is  at  its  full,  phantoms  of  its  old  life  revivify 
this  deserted  spot,  and  that  its  massive  gates  open  at 
the  call  of  a  ghostly  rider,  who  wears  the  form  of  that 
poor  jouth  who  after  his  last  midnight  ride  came  back 
feet  foremost,  recumbent,  silent,  from  the  trj'st  he  had 
sallied  forth  to  keep." 

"And  did  3'ou  know  the  woman?"  gasped  rather  than 
demanded  Ashley  Ward. 

"  Did  /know  the  woman?"  ai  ^.ort  Don  Rafael.  "  / 
know  the  woman  ?  I  was  a  stranger,  and,  truth  to  tell,  no 
friend  of  Americans ;  a  faithful  husband  withal,  and  was 
it  likely,  though  he  had  them,  this  stranger  would  have 
shared   secrets  of  a  doubti'ul   nature  with  me?      When 


!i 

n 


CHATA   AND   CIl/N/TA. 


2G9 


than 


id  was 
have 
When 


I  said  a  '  tryst '  I  used  it  for  want  of  a  bettor  word.  What 
attraction  should  a  man  so  refined,  so  engrossed  in  his 
afl'airs  as  this  busj-  foreigner,  find  in  the  humble  and  rustic 
beauties  of  the  village?  For  my  part,  I  find  it  impossible 
to  imagine  sucli  coarseness  in  a  man  so  little  likely  to  be 
governed  by  a  base  passion  as  Ashley  appeared.  You 
know  your  own  people  better  than  I  can  ;  what  say  you  ?  " 

"  I  say  the  same ! "  answered  Ward,  eagerly,  with  a 
keen  glance  at  the  sensitive  dark  face  of  the  administra- 
dor.  "  Yet  I  know  that  my  cousin  loved ;  that  he  claimed 
to  be  married  ;  that  the  lady  —  " 

He  paused,  —  some  of  the  men  were  within  hearing, 
listening  like  Don  Rafael  himself  with  rapt  faces.  That 
of  Don  Rafael  lighted  for  a  moment  with  an  incredulous 
smile.  "  Ah,  then  there  was  a  woman  ?  "  he  said.  "  That 
might  be ;  but  a  marriage  ?  Ah,  Seiior,  if  there  had  been 
thai;,  all  the  world  would  have  known  it.  You  know  but 
little  of  our  laws  if  j'ou  suppose  such  a  contract  could  be 
hero  secretly  and  legally  made.  If  he  claimed  such  to  bo 
the  case,  he  was  vilely  deceived,  or  himself  was  —  " 

He  stopped  at  the  word,  as  if  fearing  to  oflTend. 

To  urge  the  matter  further  seemed  to  Ashley  worse 
than  useless.  He  had  learned  enough  of  marriage  laws  in 
Mexico  to  feci  that  to  mention  the  name  of  Herlinda  Ga) 
cia  in  connecLion  with  that  of  Ashley  was  to  cast  upon  it 
a  slur  such  as  ^ould  but  bring  upon  him  the  resentment, 
and  perhaps  tiiv:;  revenge,  of  the  family  to  which  he  was 
probably  indebted  for  his  very  life,  and  certainly  for  a 
hospitalit}'  that  merited  respect  for  its  liberaUty  if  not 
gratitude  for  its  warmth. 

**  I  shall  never  learn  the  truth,"  he  thought  -,  *'  and  why 
indeed  should  I  seek  it?  My  aunt  was  wise  in  her  gen- 
eration. Though  ignorant  of  the  possibilities  or  impos- 
sibilities of  Mexican  society  and  character,  she  wisclj' 
refrained  from  problems  which  its  keenness  and  honor 
ignored  or  left  unsolved.  I  will  go  back  again  in  content 
to  my  houses  and  lands,  to  my  siK^er  and  gold.  I  am 
despoiling  no  legitimate  heir ;  and  to  imagine  the  exist- 
ence of  any  other  is  an  offence  either  to  my  cousin's  in 
telligence  or  honor,  as  well  as  to  the  chastity  of  a  woman 
whom  even  in  thought  I  must  be  a  villain  to  asperse. 
Let  but  a  momentar}'  quiet  come  tliat  I  may  be  able  to 


i 

If 


I 


M 
W 


sn 


V  ^te**-^ 


{■■. 


\m 


.  p 


P; '  '^ 


I!  4 1!  1 


'4'»>„j 


270 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINI-^A. 


obtain  the  requisite  funds,  and  I  will  abandon  this  sense- 
less quest,  and  leave  my  murdered  cousin  to  rest  in 
peace  in  his  forgotten  grave,  in  this  laud  of  violence  and 
mysteries." 

This  was  the  resolve  of  one  hour,  —  to  be  broken  in  the 
next,  as  the  sight  of  a  girl's  face  or  the  sound  of  her 
voice,  like  a  disturbing  conscience,  assured  him  that  in 
absence  the  doubt,  or  rather  the  tantalizing  certainty, 
would  each  day  torment  him  more  and  more,  and  so  make 
enjoyment  of  his  wealth  even  more  impossible  than  it  had 
been  when  Mary's  sensitive  imaginings  had  urged  him 
upon  his  Quixotic  errand. 

Trivial  and  even  ridiculous  things  often  divert  minds 
most  harassed  and  burdened,  and  exert  an  influence  when 
great  and  weighty  matters  would  benumb  or  tortuio.,  It 
would  have  been  impossible  for  Ashley  Ward,  in  tin-  em- 
barrassment of  his  situation  (for  his  funds  in  tiie  Cit}-  of 
Mexico  were  fintirely  cut  off  by  its  investment  })y  the  Lib- 
erals) and  in  the  perplexity  of  his  thoughts,  to  have 
entered  with  enjoyment  upon  any  festivity  or  j)ieasure 
requiring  exertion  either  of  body  or  mind;  but  ho  was, 
quite  unconst'-iously  to  himself,  in  the  mood  idly  to  \  iew 
the  little  comedy  which  was  enacted  more  and  more  freely 
before  his  eyes, — just  iv.i  '^  seasons  of  deepest  grief 
and  anxiety  one  may  se -k  n  echanical  employment  for 
the  eye  and  relief  for  the  oram  in  the  perusal  of  a  tale 
so  light  that  neither  the  strain  of  a  nerve  or  a  tjjought, 
nor  the  excitement  of  pleasure  or  pain,  shall  awaken 
emotion  or  burden  memory. 

Fernando  Ruiz  was  too  wily  a  youth,  too  courteous,  too 
kind,  to  throw  off  at  once  the  semblance  of  devotion  to  a 
goddess  who  had  lured  him  to  a  shrine  that  held  a  divinity 
whose  charms,  in  his  inconstant  sight,  so  far  surpassed 
her  own  that  he  could  not  choose  but  transfer  his  worshii), 
even  were  it  but  to  be  disdained  and  rejected.  In  the 
decorous  visits  he  made  to  Doiia  Rita  and  when  they  met 
:;t  table,  he  would  still  sigh  and  cast  despairing  glances  at 
the  bridling  Rosario,  who  but  that  she  intercepted  others 
more  fervent  till,  directed  toward  the  upper  end  of  the 
borvd  where  Dona  Isabel  and  Cliinita  sat  in  lonely  state, 
would  havo  believed  quite  true  the  tale  with  which  her 
mother  strove  to  console  her,  —  using  such  feeble  prevari- 


n  .1 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


271 


scnse- 
cst  in 
ue  and 

in  the 
of  lier 
ihat  in 
taint}', 
)  make 

it  bad 
}d  him 

winds 
e  when 
lie.     It 
tht/;  em- 
City  of 
;hc  Lib- 
;o  have 
)leasure 
he  was, 
to  view 
c  freely 
st  grief 
ent  for 
a  tale 
bought, 
awaken 

lus,  too 
liou  to  a 
Idivinity 
[vpasscd 
worship, 
In  the 
Ley  met 
mces  at 
others 
of  the 
|y  state, 
lieh  her 
Iprcvari- 


cation  as  is  usual  in  Mexican  families  when  ill  news  is  to 
be  ultimately  communicated,  in  the  fond  hope  of  softening 
a  blow  which  doubt  and  procrastination  can  but  cause  to 
be  the  more  nervously  dreaded.  But  well  was  Rosario 
convinced  that  though  Ruiz  held  daily  conferences  with 
her  father,  and  even  once  or  more  was  honored  by  a  few- 
moments'  speech  with  Doila  Isabel,  it  was  not  of  her  or  of 
love  that  they  spoke ;  arid  with  a  philosophic  determina- 
tion to  replace  with  a  more  faithful  lover  the  fickle  admirer 
whom  she  could  cease  to  love  but  would  never  forgive, 
the  piqued,  but  lightly  wounded  damsel  began  to  turn  a 
shoulder  upon  the  recreant  soldier  and  her  smiles  upon 
the  stranger. 

Ward  was  perhaps  singularly  free  from  vanity,  or  too 
much  absorbed  to  notice  the  honor  paid  him ;  but  with  a 
sense  of  angry  surprise  he  became  aware  that  Cbinita  no 
longer  ignored  the  existence  of  the  persistent  languislier, 
who  at  early  morning  paced  the  court  in  trim  riding-suit 
of  leather,  a  gay  scrape  thrown  negligently  over  bis  left 
shoulder,  bis  witle-brimmed  hat  poised  at  the  angle  whence 
he  could  see  the  door  of  her  room  open,  and  Cbinita  rival 
the  sun  in  dazzling  bis  enchanted  eyes.  At  noon  he  stood 
in  the  self-same  spot  in  gay  uniform,  from  which  by  some 
miraculous  process  all  stain  and  grime  had  disappeared ; 
and  not  inixcquently  at  evening  be  reappeared  in  tbc 
holiday  dress  of  some  clerk,  who  for  the  time  had  lent 
his  jacket  of  black  velvet  trimmed  with  silver  buttons,  or 
his  riding  suit  of  stamped  leatber  and  waist-scarf  of  scar- 
let silk,  well  pleased  to  fancy  he  was  represented  by  tbe 
litbe  young  officer,  who  filled  tbem  with  a  grace  that  made 
tbcm  tbencefortb  of  treble  value  in  the  owner's  eyes. 

This  niasqvierade  might  have  continued  indefinitely,  — 
for  Ruiz  wearied  no  sooner  of  changing  fine  clothes  than 
of  descanting  to  Ashley  of  his  sudden  but  undying  passion 
lor  the  young  Cbinita,  whose  fortunes  he  conceived,  as  tbe 
favored  of  Dona  Isabel  Garcia,  would  be  as  brilliant  as 
her  charms,  —  but  that  first,  two.  by  one,  then  in  twos  and 
throes,  in  tens  and  dozens,  mc.  flocked  into  the  adjacent 
villages .;  and  though  reluctant,  to  be  torn  from  gentler 
pursuits,  yet  proud  to  form  and  command  a  regiment,  tbe 
young  adventurer  was  set  tb«'  taslc  of  bringing  order 
out  of  the  wild  and  discordant  elements,  —  a  task  for 


Ub 


i"M 


'■V ' 


.  '1 


J'il    .  il 


is;  r- 


¥:ti 


J)  I     ( 


'.  li  J  i 


il^'. 


272 


CITATA   AND   CHINITA. 


which  the  training  of  his  life,  and  his  peculiar  knowledge 
of  the  material  with  which  he  had  to  work,  more  fitted 
him  than  any  especial  talent,  however  brilliant,  in  the 
conduct  of  ordinary  militar}'  affairs  would  have  done. 

The  young  officer's  vanity  was  flattered,  for  in  some 
occult  way  the  responsibility  of  the  spontaneous  rally  was 
thrown  upon  his  shoulders,  and  he  became  the  central 
figure  in  a  movement  which  within  a  few  days  assumed  a 
picturesque  and  imposing  character.  He  himself  assumed 
that  the  magic  of  his  name  had  called  from  their  rocky 
lairs  these  mountain  banditti,  these  sturdy  vaqueros,  these 
apathetic  but  resolute  rancheros  who  trooped  in,  bringing 
witli  them  rusty  carbines  and  shotguns,  and  sometimes 
polished  Henry  and  Sharp's  rifles,  which  the  enterprise  of 
speculative  TNracricans  had  introduced  into  the  country. 
There  was  no  choice  of  weapons,  but  ever^'  one  brought 
something,  —  a  silver-mounted  pistol,  worthless  as  pre- 
tentious, or  a  strong  and  formidable  short-sword,  or 
glittering  curved  sabre,  forged  in  some  mountain  or 
village  smithy. 

It  seemed  too  that  by  mere  force  of  will  money  came  in- 
to the  captain's  hands,  and  that  clothing,  horses,  and  pro- 
visions were  thus  l)rought  forth  from  the  stores  and  fields 
of  Tres  Hermanos ;  that  plans  were  laid,  and  adverse 
possibilities  provided  against,  a  way  marked  out  and 
guides  provided ;  and  that  he  suddenly  found  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  force  more  fully  equipped  than  any  he  had 
before  beheld,  — men  eager  for  adventure  and  battle,  and 
clamoM./US  to  be  led  to  join  the  forces  of  Gonzales,  who 
while  the  cause  with  which  he  sj-mpathized  was  meeting 
lloody  rcN'erses  around  the  City  of  Mexico  in  which  the 
Clerioi  IVji-ces  were  concentrated,  was  daily  attracting  in 
tlic  intonor  formidable  additions  to  the  numbers  of  the 
I.iberulb.  '  he  tales  of  Conservative  des])otism  and  bar- 
barity, wtucii  later  investigations  proved  to  have  been  well 
founded,  aided  much  in  influencing  the  masses  to  seek 
a  oliaii;>:e  of  evils,  even  where  hopeless  of  any  lasting 
benefit  from  the  new  condition  of  alfairs  which  it  was 
proposed  to  inaugurate. 

A  people  who  had  for  generations  found  in  changes  of 
government  simply  fresh  despotisms  and  encroachments 
were  not  lik(!lv  to  be  as  enthusiastic  in  discussion  as  mad 


ledge 
fitted 

n  the 


some 
y  was 
cntral 
mod  a 
3umcd 
rocky 
,  these 
inging 
ctimes 
»rise  of 
)imtry. 
irouglit 
IS  pre- 
jrd,  or 
tain  or 


amc  in- 
,nd  pro- 
\  fields 
adverse 
and 
nself  at 
he  had 
0,  and 
OS,  who 
meeting 
lich  the 
cting  in 
of  the 
nd  bar- 
leen  well 
to  seek 
lasting 
it  was 


CHATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


273 


angcs  of 
c'hnients 
as  mad 


for  action,  —  for  crushing  and  destroying  the  old,  and 
seizing  upon  all  available  booty,  not  as  necessary  to  the 
success  of  their  cause,  but  as  a  despoilment  of  the  enemy. 
And  upon  this  principle  it  within  a  few  days  happened 
that  Tres  Hermanos  presented  more  the  appearance  of  a 
forced  than  a  voluntary  contributor  to  the  military  neces- 
sities of  the  time.  Not  only  the  common  soldiers  but 
those  who  were  to  lead  tliem,  —  most  of  them  men  as 
skilled  in  ordering  the  sacking  of  a  hacienda  as  in  defend- 
ing a  mountain  pass  or  assaulting  some  unwary  town,  — 
had  poured  in  and  filled  every  vacant  nook  in  the  village 
huts,  inid  occupied  the  long-deserted  reduction- works  and 
the  ruinous  huts  along  the  watercourse,  and  overran  the 
courts  and  yards  of  the  great  house  itself. 

The  great  conical  storehouses  of  small  grains  and  corn 
were  opemid  and  the  mill  invaded  by  the  soldiers,  who 
under  tho  half-reluctant  directions  of  the  skilled  workmen 
kept  tue  somewhat  primitive  machinery  in  constant  mo- 
tion, —  varying  their  emploj-ment  by  breaking  the  half- 
wild  horses  brought  in  from  the  wide  pastures  and  talking 
lov(;  to  the  village  girls,  who  in  all  their  lives  had  never 
before  beheld  a  holiday-making  half  so  delightful. 

The  long-closed  church  too  was  thrown  open,  and  a 
priest  from  the  next  village  was  busied  all  day  long 
shriving  the  sins  of  tliose  whom  he  shrewdly  suspected 
were  ready  to  raise  the  standard  of  revolt  against  the 
temporal  rule  of  the  Church,  whose  ghostly  powers  had 
oversliadowed  earth  with  the  terrors  of  its  supernatural 
dominion. 

Ruiz  had  gained  a  certain  fame,  more  as  a  reflection 
from  that  of  the  man  with  whom  he  had  been  associate  -1 
tlian  from  any  daring  episodes  in  his  own  career ;  and 
he  actually  possessed  a  military  training  that  ordinarily 
well  filled  the  place  of  innate  genius,  and  at  other  times 
counterfeited  it.  He  had  impressed  Don  Rafat;!  as  a  man 
well  suited,  if  hedged  with  precautions,  to  kuid  the  forces 
that  his  representations  induced  Dofia  Isabel  to  send  to 
the  relief  of  her  favorite  Gonzales.  A  leader  of  more 
positive  aspirations  and  declare*]  opinions  tJian  Ruiz  m.ini- 
fested,  would  not  so  happily  have  welded  and  moulded 
men  of  sr.oh  diverse  and  conilioling  elements,  —  men  who, 
accustomed  to  tlie  freedom  oi"  guerilla  warfare,  were  more 

18 


I  :( 


;,  :;r  i 


274 


CHAT  A  AND  CIIINTTA. 


■i^  fl  J"    ' 


m- 


rcacly  to  be  led  by  the  glitter  than  the  substance  of  author- 
ity. A  man  of  straw,  who  though  answering  a  purpose 
for  the  time  could  create  no  diversion  of  devotion  to  his 
own  person  in  detriment  to  the  supremacy  of  Gonzales, 
was  sought  and  found  in  Ruiz.  He  was  indeed  the 
simple  tool  of  Dona  Isabel  Garcia,  manipulated  by  her 
administrador,  yet  so  skilfully  that  he  came  to  think  him- 
self tlic  moving  power  whicli  from  an  isolated  farmhouse 
had  within  a  few  days  changed  Los  Trcs  Ilermanos  into 
a  miUtar}'  camp. 

In  proportion  with  the  importance  of  the  position  into 
which  Ruiz  was  forced  his  love  and  daring  grew,  and  ho 
remembered  that  many  men  of  family  as  obseure,  and 
certainly  of  less  tact  and  talent  than  he,  had  crowned  tlioir 
fortunes  by  marriage  with  beautiful  daughters  of  rich 
houses ;  and  he  even  began  to  reflect  with  some  dissatis- 
faction upon  Chinitr's  doubtful  status,  although  a  few 
days  before  he  had  despaired  of  rising  to  a  height  where 
he  might  dare  so  much  as  touch  the  hand  of  Doiia  Isabel's 
favored  protegee. 

These  changes  of  feeling  were  watched  from  diy  to  day 
with  amusement  by  Ashley  Ward,  and  with  rage  by  Pepc;, 
as  with  despair  he  saw  himself  fading  corapletcl}'^  from  the 
horizon  of  Chinita's  life,  and  a  new  and  dazzling  star  rising 
upon  her  view.  More  than  once  Ashley  Ward  saw  him 
nervously  fingering  the  knife  in  his  belt,  as  the  unconscious 
Ruiz  stood  by  the  fountain  in  the  moonlight  and  strummed 
the  strings  of  a  bandoline,  and  in  the  shrill  tenor  which 
seems  the  natural  vehicle  of  such  weird  strains  sang  the 
paloma^  "  the  Dove,"  or  Te  amo^  "  I  love  thee,"  —  sounds 
pleasing  in  any  female  ear,  though  doubtless,  thought 
Dona  Isabel,  intended  to  reach  the  heart  of  one  partic- 
ular fair  one  ;  at  which  she  smiled  as  she  imagined  this  to 
be  the  pretty  brown  Rosario,  while  the  tender  notes  in 
reality  appealed  not  quite  in  vain  to  the  girl  who  with  a 
remarkal)le  semblance  of  patience  shared  the  seclusion 
of  her  own  life. 

Once  only  had  Chinita  rebelled,  and  that  wos  when, 
instead  of  her  usual  ramble  in  the  garden  with  P^eliz  or 
Dona  Isabel  herself,  slie  liad  asked  to  be  driven  through 
the  village,  past  the  reduction-works,  th  it  she  might  sec 
the  preparations  of  which  the  distant  -  ;:Tids  reached  her. 


torn 
inc 

SOUi 

the^ 

renu 

equ 

an( 

clier 

sub 

who 

un( 

sufli 

cess 

of 

wai'i 

whit 


CHATA   AND   CHLXITA. 


27.J 


luthor- 
iirposo 
to  his 
izales, 
Bcl  tho 
)y  her 
k  him- 
nhousG 
38  into 

m  into 
and  ho 
e,  and 
;d  thoir 
of  rich 
[issatis- 
a  few 
;  whore 
Isabel's 

r  to  day 

y  Pcpo, 
'rom  the 
xr  rising 
!aw  him 
jnscious 
rummod 
►r  which 
sang  the 
-  sounds 
thought 
Q  partic- 
[1  this  to 
notes  in 
o  with  a 
seclusion 

£)S  when, 
Feliz  or 
,  through 
uight  sec 
ched  her. 


She  would  not  be  appeased  at  Dona  Isabel's  refusal,  even 
by  tlic  suggestion  that  she  should  stand  upon  the  balcony' 
of  the  central  window,  whence  she  could  overlook  tho 
scene  for  miles ;  and  so  contrary  was  her  humor  tiiat 
Dona  Isabel  was  glad  to  agree  to  her  sudden  fancy  that 
her  old  playfellow  Tepu  should  be  allowed  to  describe  to 
lier  what  he  had  seen.  "Men  see  more  than  women," 
the  wilful  girl  exclaimed;  "he  will  tell  me  something 
more  than  of  the  chickens  that  are  stolen,  and  tho  mnnbor 
of  tortillas  that  are  eaten.  Ay,  Dios !  1  would  1  wore 
a  man  myself,  to  bo  a  soldier ! " 

So  toward  evening  a  message  brought  by  Dona  Foliz 
herself  startled  the  sullen  Pope.  Ashley  Ward  watched  the 
youth  with  some  curiosity  as  he  sauntered  across  the  court 
and  ascended  the  stone  stairs.  Tepo's  dress  that  day  was 
in  a  Saturday's  state  of  grime,  and  at  best  consisted  of  a 
shabby  suit  of  3'ellow  buckskin,  from  whicii  the  metal  but- 
tons had  mostl}'  dropped,  and  which  gaped  at  the  armholos 
as  widely  as  at  the  waistband ;  and  his  leathern  sandals 
and  sombrero  of  woven  grass  showed  signs  of  age,  corre- 
sponding to  that  of  tho  ragged  blanket  he  wore  with  such 
an  air  that  he  might  have  been  taken  for  the  ver}-  king  of 
idle  loungers. 

Dona  Isabel  glanced  up  at  him  as  he  muttered  the  cus- 
tomary salutation,  uncovering  his  shock  of  black  liair  and 
inclining  his  head  to  her,  while  his  black  C3'es  fui'tively 
sought  Chinita.  Th;  re  was  nothing  in  his  appearance  for 
the  most  careful  duenna  to  fear,  and  although  Dona  Isabel 
remembered  that  a  few  weeks  ago  those  two  had  boon 
equals,  they  now  seemed  as  widely  sundered  as  tho  polos  ; 
and  knowing  the  prolixity  with  which  the  ordmar}'  ran- 
cliero  usually  approached  and  gave  his  views  upon  any 
subject,  she  witlidrew  to  the  lower  end  of  the  gallery, 
whore  she  might  count  her  beads  or  con  her  thoughts 
undisturbed.  The  murmur  of  voices  reached  her  with 
suflicient  distinctness  for  her  to  know  that  the  usual  pro- 
cess of  minute  questioning  and  tantalizing  indolinitoness 
of  answer  was  in  progress  ;  and  at  length,  soothed  by  the 
warm  still  air,  the  low  song  of  a  bird  in  the  orange-tree 
which  exhaled  a  sweet  and  heavy  odor,  and  the  habitual 
absorption  of  Iior  own  relloctions,  she  failed  to  notice  th.'it 
the  murmur  of  the  voices   grew  loss  and  less  distinct. 


^-$V 


It 


'!-'■ 


270 


ClfA'/A   AX/)   CIIINITA. 


ii! 


1 1-, 


#fl^i'!  :■!:• 


.'ind  iiidcod  blended  faintly  with  Hie  low  medley  of  sounds 
peculiar  to  the  coininjjj  eveniugtule. 

'*  TepcV'  Cliiuita  was  saying'  tlien,  in  n  tone  a  litllo 
above  a  wliisi)ei',  "^  tell  nie,  Ih  it  true  that  this  Don  KiT- 
nando  Kni/,  who  for  love  of  Hosario,  :ind  to  please  Don 
Rafael  and  l)on;i  Isabel,  is  to  lead  these  rei'i'uits  to  join 
Don  (Jon/ales,  -  tell  nie,  is  it  tine  that  he  was  tht;  associ- 
ate of  that  iianiirez  who  was  here  ho  many  years  u<40?  " 

''  It  is  likely,"  answered  V('\)(\  sullenly.  "  J  have  heard 
that  h(»  is  Ramirez's  p^odson  ;  and  what  more  likely,"  he 
fiddi'd  in  an  undertone,  "  than  that  the  Devil  should  atuud 
s[)onsor  for  an  imp  of  his  own  blackiu>ss?" 

•'  In  that  case,"  said  Chinita,  shar[)ly,  "  it  is  impossible 
Ruiz  has  pronounced  a<:;ainst  him.  Whoever  heard  of  a, 
godchild  drawin<jj  sword  ai^ainst  his  sponsor?  It  should  bo 
against  his  father  or  brother  rather.  Go  to,  I'epe,  you 
and  1  know  nothing  of  Puro  or  JNloeho.  liah  !  they  know 
not  the  ditfereiice  one  from  the  other  themselves ;  but  wo 
do  know  Ramirez  and  (ionzales,  and  it  is  the  first  that  I 
love.  AVluit  arc  you  frowning  at,  Tepi'^  ?  Oh !  oh !  oh  ! 
you  are  jealous,  as  you  used  to  be  of  I'aneho  and  Juan 
and  Gabriel !     What  an  idea  !     Ila!  ha!  ha!" 

'' AVhv  do  you  laugh  so  loudly?"  asked  Dona  Isabel 
across  the  corridor,  not  displeased  to  see  her  merry. 

"  IJecause  he  was  telling  mo  how  the  Tia  Gomcsinda 
broke  the  jar  over  the  shoulders  of  the  bravo  recruit  who 
drained  it  ^f  her  last  boiling  of  corn  gruel,"  answered 
Chinita,  readily.  "  But  excuse  me,  Sefiora,  I  will  not 
disturb  you  again  ;  "  and  she  turned  with  a  conciliatory 
smile  toward  Pepe,  who  was  regarding  her  with  an  ex- 
pression of  malignant  idolatry,  —  if  such  an  extravagant 
lihrasc  may  bo  coined,  to  indicate  a  love  which  was  capa- 
ble of  destroying,  but  never  of  renouncing,  its  object. 

''  Thou  art  more  unmanucrl}-  and  more  easily  vexed 
than  when  thou  uscdst  to  follow  mo  through  the  corn  and 
bean  fields,  bending  under  the  loads  of  wild  fruit  and 
flowers  I  piled  upon  thee,  and  then  throwing  them  down 
some  stou}'  ravine  because  of  one  sharp  word  I  would  give 
thee.  How  canst  thou  exi)ect  ever  to  be  aught  but  a 
poor  ranchcro,  with  a  temper  so  unreasonable  ?  " 

"  And  what  if  I  were  as  patient  as  Saint  Stephen  him- 
self, what  would  it  matter?    Thou  wouldst  not  love  me,** 


Tl 


CIIATA   AJVI)   CiriNlTA. 


277 


tmsworwl  the  young  man.  "  And  what  ran;  I  wlicthcr  I 
am  poor  or  rich,  ninchero  or  soUliiir?  1 1  i.s  all  oni;  now 
that  thou  art  with  Dona  Isabel.  Why,  if  thou  wi-rt  her 
child  Hhe  could  not  Ik;  niort;  chijicc  ol"  thcc.  ThoH(!  wiio 
titc  from  the  Hanu;  i)lalo  and  drank  I'rom  tho  Hamc  bowl 
with  thco  arc  U'ss  than  the  do<^.s  who  followed  the(! ;  "  und 
he  would  have  kicked,  had  it  been  near  enouj^h,  the  cu 
which  had  been  I'edro's,  and  which  like  many  others  had 
the  undisputed  right  to  the  corridor,  and  with  patient 
obstinacy  chose  to  lie  at  Chinita's  door. 

The  young  girl  looked  up  with  a  tantalizing  smile.  Slie 
had  been  used  to  these  spcicches  of  coviut  jealousy,  whicii 
she  feigned  to  take  as  the  envy  of  an  ill-mannered  ranchero. 
*'  I'shaw  !  "  she  said  gazing  at  hiuj  through  her  half-tilosed 
lids,  and  yet  from  beneath  the  long  lashes  that  veiled  them 
casting  a  languorous  though  wholly  unstudied  glanc(!, 
which  dazzled  and  thrilled  him,  "'friends,  bacon,  and 
wine  should  be  old!'  What  friend  like  an  old  friend? 
lie  is  better  than  a  new-found  relation.  It  is  he  who 
will  do  a  bid(hng  and  ask  no  reason  for  it ;  it  is  he  —  " 

"What  '^an  I  do  for  thee?"  whispered  Pepe,  hoarsely. 
"  Tell  nie,  and  thou  shalt  sec  whether  1  am  a  friend  or  no ; 
and  then  Chinita  thou  wilt  —  " 

"  Sh-h ! "  interrupted  Chinita,  her  finger  again  on  her 
hp.  "  What  does  it  matter  to  me  who  wins  or  loses  in 
these  senseless  battles?  Yet  I  wonder  thou  art  not  with 
Pedro  ;  I  would  not  have  him  sick  or  wounded,  and  alone," 
and  her  e3'cs  filled  with  tears.  Pepc  moved  from  foot  to 
loot,  and  rubbed  his  shoulder  against  the  wall  uneasily. 
There  was  a  covert  reproach  in  her  tone  which  he  re- 
sented, and  yet  it  pleased  him  too  that  she  should  bo 
troubled  :  if  Pedro  were  remembered,  he  could  not  himself 
be  wholly  forgotten. 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,"  he  muttered  :  "  he  stole  away  in 
the  night.  Some  say  after  all  he  has  not  gone  to  Gonzales, 
and  that  the  men  who  are  gathered  here  may  find  them- 
selves led  to  Ramirez.  At  any  rat(!  this  Ruiz  —  who  you 
say  loves  Rosario,  but  who  sighs  like  a  furnace  when  his 
eye  lights  on  you,  and  who  has  worn  away  the  post  of  his 
door  writing  verses  to  your  praise;  with  the  point  of  his 
rapier  —  should  be  but  little  to  be  trusted." 

"  Ah  !  "  ejaculated  Chinita,  "  I  do  not  think  thou  lovest 


'    !] 


!' 


i^l 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


^<- 


z 


^ 


.<9 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


2.2 


2.0 


1.4 


1.8 


1.6 


Photographic 

Sdences 
Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


£*^  «*? 


278 


CHATA  AND   CIIINITA. 


MC 


'm 


J'v. 


n 


'USj, 


Lim,  Pcpito.    Thou  wouldst  not  that  he  should  do  rac  a 
I'tivor  instead  of  th3'self  ?" 

"I  would  see  him  choked  first  with  the  wine  in  which 
he  drinks  a  toast  to  thine  eyes,"  answered  Pepu,  hotly. 
*'  Senor  Don  'Guardo  and  I  are  in  the  same  mind  about 
that;  but  it  is  not  that  he  thinks  thee  a  beauty,"  he 
added  hastily. 

Chinita  Hushed  and  tossed  her  head  proudly.  "What 
matters  it  wliat  Don  'Guardo  thinks?"  she  said.  "There 
coukl  be  nothing  but  ill  luck  in  the  favor  of  a  man  like  that. 
llast  thou  shown  him  the  grave  of  the  other  American? 
Ah,  thou  must  know  where  to  And  it.  Didst  thou  think 
I  did  not  see  thee  following  me  behind  the  tuiias  and 
bushes  the  day  I  found  it  after  I  had  bidden  thee  go  back  ? 
Thou  wert  like  Negrito  there.  Come  here,  Negrito ;  thou 
art  lean  and  black,  but  1  love  thee ; "  and  she  stooped  to 
pat  the  slinking  cur.  "Ah,  ah!  Pcpito,  it  would  be  a 
good  jest  if  thou  wouldst  show  Don  'Guardo  the  Ameri- 
can's grave,  and  tell  him  Chinita  bids  him  bewaie  of  the 
same  fortune." 

"  He  would  think  thee  a  gypsy  more  than  ever,  and  a 
Boxxcy  one,"  answered  Pepe.  "  But  1  know  this  is  not  the 
favor  thou  wouldst  ask  of  nie.  Thou  art  thinking  ever  of 
Itamirez,  who  bewitched  thee.  Ask  it  of  the  Captain  Ruiz 
rather  than  me.  1  would  die  for  thee,  but  I  see  not  how 
I  can  serve  thee  by  turning  traitor." 

Chinita  started  up  angrily.  "Am  I  a  false-hearted  wretch 
to  ask  it  of  thee  ?  "  she  cried  furiously,  though  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Ramirez  fights  for  the  side  of  right.  Is  it  his 
fault  if  the  Clergy  are  right  to-day  and  the  Liberals  to- 
morrow? "Were  not  he  and  Gonzales  upon  the  same  side 
wlicn  they  were  here  years  ago?  Were  not  his  men  crying 
^IHos  y  Libertad! '  when  they  passed  here  six  months  ago  ? 
And  suppose  the  cry  is  changed.  Bah !  with  Dona  Isabel's 
men  he  would  be  of  Doiia  Isabel's  opinion  !  What  does  it 
matter  to  him  ?  lie  is  a  man  to  fight,  not  to  sit  down  like 
Don  Rafael  and  the  major-domo,  okl  Don  Tomas,  and 
talk,  talk,  talk !  " 

"  That  is  very  well,"  said  Pepe,  staidly ;  "  but  why  do 
you  not  tell  this  all  to  Dona  Isabel?  Or  listen,  now:  to 
please  thee  I  will  seek  Pedro,  —  I  warrant  me  he  is  not  so 
far  away,  —  and  I  will  tell  him  how  thou  wouldst  have 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


279 


me  a 

which 
hotlj'. 
about 


aud 


Ramirez  rather  than  Gonzales  to  lead  th  troops ;  if  it 
matters  not  to  him,  ciert  it  will  not  to  me !  But  I  tell 
thee  frankly  I  would  bv  "  those  who  would  pull  down 
rather  than  build  up  churches.  I  see  no  gain  to  bo  had 
in  fighting  for  the  Seiiores  the  bishops,  who  have  so  much 
already  that  the  poor  man  can  have  nothing  but  leave 
to  fast  while  the  priests  revel  in  plenty.  Go  to,  Chinita ! 
thou  hast  heard  Pedro  talk  of  freedom  as  much  as  I  have. 
If  Don  Benito  Juarez  and  Don  Vicente  and  the  rest  of 
them  gain  the  day,  I  —  why  I  might  be  an  alcalde  myself, 
or  a  general ;   and  then  —  well,  anything  thou  wilt ! " 

Chinita  laughed  and  nodded  at  him.  "It  is  the  Seiior 
Ramirez  who  could  bring  about  all  that,"  she  said  with 
conviction ;  "  and,  Pepe,  though  thou  dost  not  love  the 
Captain  Ruiz,  thou  shalt  take  him  that  message  from  Chi- 
nita. Yes,  yes !  go  thy  way  quietl}'  to  Pedro,  and  if  there 
is  treason,  Ruiz  sliall  work  it.  So  the  General  Ramirez 
shall  be  brought  over  to  our  side,  and  Ruiz  shall  be  the 
only  man  who  will  be  blamed,  if  Dona  Isabel  is  vexed." 

Pepe  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  His  views  were  no 
clearer  than  Chinita's,  but  they  were  not  additionally  ob- 
scured by  an  unreasoning  enthusiasm  for  a  self-created 
hero.  Dona  Isabel  was  rising  from  her  chair ;  the  rattle 
of  the  wood  upon  the  bricks  startled  the  two  speakers. 

"How  goes  it  with  thy  sister  Juana?"  asked  Chinita, 
lightly.  "  She  told  me  once  she  loved  Gabriel  because, 
though  he  was  old  and  ugly,  he  would  do  more  to  please 
her  than  all  the  young  and  handsome  lovers.  Are  they 
happj'^,  do  you  think,  or  has  he  beaten  her  already,  as  I 
said  he  would?" 

Pepe  looked  at  her  keenly  and  with  an  expression  of  wild 
hope  from  behind  the  wide  hat  he  was  holding  in  both 
hands  before  his  face,  in  awkward  preparation  for  depart- 
ure. Would  Chinita  too  marry  the  man  who  would  please 
her?  And  after  all  it  was  but  a  little  thing,  — just  a  hint  to 
the  man  whose  admiration  she  jeered  at. 

"Thou  canst  go  now,  Pepu,"  said  Doiia  Isabel,  ap- 
proaching. "  I  am  sure  the  Scnorita  has  heard  enough  of 
the  wild  doings  of  these  mad  soldiers.  Tliank  Heaven, 
they  leave  us  soon !  Ah,  now  that  I  think  of  it,  thou 
mayst  say  to  the  Senor  Americano  that  Captain  Ruiz  told 
me  to-day  he  would  gladly  give  him  safe  escort  as  far  upon 


i  f 


ii  \ 


\{  M 


»^ 


V^' 


m 


Mf 


M 


280 


CHATA   AND   CHIN  IT  A. 


their  way  as  their  roads  may  lie  together  ;  and  —  but  I  for- 
got, such  messages  are  not  for  thee.  I  will  send  them  by 
the  Seiior  Adrainistrador." 

Pepe  muttered  his  adieus  and  bowed  himself  awa}'  in 
some  confusion.  Chinita  looked  after  him  meaningly  ;  he 
caught  her  glance  and  then  the  motion  of  her  lips.  His 
heart  beat  wildly ;  they  formed  the  refrain  of  a  popular 
song,— 

"  Adios,  my  dearest  love  !  " 

Pep6  reached  the  court  quite  dizzy.  Ashley  Ward  and 
Captain  Ruiz  were  both  waiting  for  him.  His  exciteuent 
had  reached  a  crisis.  He  seized  Ruiz  by  the  arm.  "  If 
you  would  please  her,"  he  hissed  in  his  ear,  "find  Ramirez, 
and  let  Irm,  and  not  Gonzales,  lead  the  troops." 

"  You  are  drunk !  "  answered  Ruiz  ;  yet  he  clutched  the 
3'outh  by  the  arm,  and  led  him  into  his  room. 

Pepe  came  to  his  senses  with  the  shock  as  he  sank  upon 
a  stone  bench  against  the  cold,  hard  wall.  Presently  he 
gave  a  brief  account  of  Chinita's  desires  and  reasons. 
Ruiz  listened  without  a  smile.  Childish  and  unprincipled 
as  they  were,  they  were  not  more  so  than  scores  he  had 
heard  discussed  in  the  course  of  the  years  of  anarchy  in 
which  he  had  entered  upon  manhood.  Find  Ramirez, 
pledge  him  to  the  Liberal  cause,  leave  it  to  him  to  gain 
such  an  ascendency  over  the  troops  that  they  would  them- 
selves proclaim  him  their  leader!  It  was  an  easy  task. 
It  set  him  thinking,  and  Pepe  slunk  away  to  hope,  to 
doubt,  to  despair,  to  hope  again. 

*'  Adios,  my  dearest  love  !  "  — 

just  the  refrain  of  a  song,  yet  it  pursued  and  bewildered 
him.  For  less,  stronger  men  than  Pepe  the  ranchero  have 
committed  unimaginable  crimes. 

The  next  morning  when  they  met  in  the  court.  Captain 
Ruiz  stopped  Pepd.  "  Tell  her  her  wishes  are  law  to  me ! " 
he  said.     "  If  she  but  love  me,  I  —  " 

^'- Caramba ! "  cried  Pepe,  savagel}'.  "Am  I  an  old 
woman  or  a  priest  that  I  should  carry  your  messages? 
She  love  you !  she  would  needs  have  been  born  to  lead 
apes,  to  love  j'ou."  And  Pepi'i  flung  himself  off  in  a  rage, 
while  the  astounded  Ruiz  gazed  after  him  in  open-mouthed 
amazement. 


CHATA   AND   ClflNITA. 


281 


it  I  for- 
liem  by 

iway  in 
;ly;  he 
s.  His 
popular 


ard  and 
siteuent 
n.  ''  If 
lamirez, 

3hed  the 

nk  upon 
entl}?  he 
reasons, 
nncipled 
he  had 
tirchy  in 
lamirez, 
I  to  gain 
Id  them- 
sj'  task, 
lope,  to 


wildered 
Bro  have 

Captain 
tome!" 

an  old 

3ssages  ? 

to  lead 

a  rage, 

mouthed 


(( 


By  my  life,  he  loves  her  himself!  "  he  muttered  va- 
cantly. ' '  Seiior  Doa  'Guardo,  heard  you  ever  such  pre- 
sumption? The  bare-skin  beggar  loves  the  favorite  — 
what  shall  we  saj'?  —  niece  of  Dofia  Isabel !  " 

"  Let  us  say  you  are  both  fools ! "  said  Don  'Guardo 
in  good  round  English  and  with  a  sudden  rage,  the  motive 
of  which  was  to  himself  inexplicable ;  and  the  discomfited 
captain  bowed,  not  doubting  that  his  own  expression 
of  disgust  had  been  echoed. 

'-'•Caramba!  a  woman  so  beautiful  gazed  at  b}' every 
beggar,  like  an  image  of  the  Virgin  of  Remedios  carried  in 
procession  I  I  swear  I  will  not  forget  thee,  Pepito,  and 
will  keep  a  close  ""e  on  thee,  now  I  know  thou  hast  been 
tampered  with  !  "  continued  Ruiz,  hotly.  "  A  word  to  the 
General  Gonzales  will  be  enough  if  he  is  of  my  mind ! " 

That  day,  in  spite  of  Dona  Isabel's  diligence,  a  pink  note 
found  its  way  to  Chinita.  '•  Good  !  "  she  said  after  read- 
ing it,  "  My  General  Ramirez  will  have  the  men ;  the 
Seiior  Gonzales  will  be  helped,  and  Dona  Isabel  will  do  a 
double  good.  This  is  not  so  bad  a  subject,  —  this  Ruiz  ; 
and  his  eyes  are  as  black  and  large  as  those  of  Ramirez 
himself.  All  is  well.  All  things  will  come  right  at  last. 
\h,  if  only  what  Don  Rafael  told  Feliz  one  night  should 
come  true,  and  the  convents  are  opened,  then  —  " 

She  paused.  It  seemed  too  utterly  impossible  even  to 
dream  of.  She  looked  again  at  her  first  love-letter ;  a 
twinge  of  remorse  seized  her  as  she  thought  of  Rosario. 
She  laughed,  but  she  tore  the  paper  into  infinitesimal 
shreds. 

What  was  the  writer  thinking?  "  Onward !  I  have  gone 
too  far  to  turn  back  even  at  the  word  of  Chinita.  A 
promise  will  gain  her  love,  but  the  essential  thing  is  the 
good-will  of  Doiia  Isabel.  '  A  pearl  is  all  the  better  for  a 
golden  setting ! '  No  treaties  then  with  Ramirez.  Though 
he  is  my  godfather,  I  need  not  his  patronage.  Doiia  Isa- 
bel, a  straight  path,  and  Juarez  !  Forward !  Ruiz,  for- 
tune favors  you ! " 


■I  '"'1 


■!'!•; 


XXX. 

A  FEW  days  later  tbe  troops  had  left  Tres  Hcrmanos, 
and  Ashley  Ward  stood  in  the  silent  graveyard  on  the 
mountain  side,  pushing  back  witii  his  foot  the  loose  sand 
his  tread  had  disturbed,  as  it  threatened  again  and  again 
to  cover  the  rude  wooden  cross  upon  which  his  eyes  were 
fixed.  It  bore  the  name  of  his  murdered  cousin,  faint 
yet  distinct,  preserved  by  the  sand,  for  the  wind  had  soon 
prostrated  it  after  Cliinita's  shallow  replanting.  The  words 
seemed  to  Ashley  to  call  to  him  aloud  from  the  dust  of  his 
kinsman ;  in  the  hot  sunshine  their  spell  was  as  potent 
as  though  a  ghostly  voice  had  spoken  at  midnight.  For 
the  first  time,  something  more  intense  than  the  desire  to 
satisfy  conscience  by  proving  that  he  wronged  no  rightful 
heir  in  entering  upon  property  which  would  have  been 
John  Ashley's  had  he  lived,  arose  in  his  mind.  The  abso- 
lute reality  of  his  cousin's  death  for  the  first  time  seemed 
to  become  an  overwhelming  conviction  ;  and  with  it  came 
memories  of  the  young  and  daring  man  whom  he  had  in 
childhood  held  in  wondering  admiration.  And  as  he  stood 
within  sight  of  the  spot  where  the  brilliant  young  life  had 
ended  in  a  bloody  tragedy,  a  deep  wave  of  sorrow  surged 
over  his  soul,  and  from  its  depths,  as  from  the  loose  sands 
of  the  wind-levelled  grave,  appeared  to  rise  a  cry  for 
vengeance. 

Though  not  till  now  had  Cliinita's  charge  that  he  be 
taken  to  the  American's  grave  been  carried  out,  tlic  mes- 
sage from  Doiia  Isabel,  which  Pepu  had  not  failed  to  de- 
liver, had  reached  him  some  days  before,  and  had  l)oen 
supplemented  by  a  visit  fi'om  Don  Kafael.  Although  a 
certain  fascination  had  inclined  Ashley  to  linger  still  at 
Tres  Ilermanos,  he  had  so  little  hope  of  adding  to  the 
information  he  had  already  gained  of  his  cousin's  life,  — 
there  seemed  so  little  possibility  that  the  marriage  whic;h 
John  Ashley  had  intimated  had  taken  place,  could  ever 


,Mi 


en  ATA   AND   ClIINITA. 


283 


rmanos, 
on  the 
[>sc  sand 
id  again 
y^es  were 
in,  faint 
lad  soon 
le  words 
ist  of  liis 
8  potent 
it.  For 
lesire  to 
>  rightful 
ive  been 
'lie  abso- 
Q  seemed 
1  it  came 
e  had  in 
he  stood 
\  life  had 
w  surged 
)se  sands 
I  cry  for 

at  he  be 
the  mos- 
:h1  to  de- 
lad  boon 
thoni2;h  a 
r  still  at 
ig  to  the 
s  life, — 
Lgo  which 
3uld  ever 


have  been  more  than  a  mere  sentimental  dedication  of  the 
lovers  one  to  the  other,  in  whicli  they  deemed  themselves 
man  and  wife  in  the  sight  of  God,  but  which  in  the  sight 
of  man  was  a  mere  illicit  connection,  to  be  condemned 
or  ignored,  —  that  he  had  not  dared  to  present  himself 
before  the  haughty  mother  of  the  one  Ilerlinda  whom  he 
suspected  to  have  been  the  object  of  his  cousin's  passion, 
and  to  insult  her  with  questions  or  insinuations  that  would 
cast  a  doubt  upon  her  daughter's  purity  and  a  stain  upon 
the  fame  of  the  house  of  Garcia,  which  even  the  blood  of 
John  Ashley  and  his  own  added  thereto  would  be  insulli- 
cient  to  wash  away. 

The  young  man  had  decided  then  to  accept  the  order  of 
(■  smissal,  so  delicately  conveyed  in  the  intimation  that 
by  accepting  tJie  escort  of  the  troops  as  far  as  they  might 
proceed  toward  Guanapila,  he  would  not  only  reach  a  point 
whence  in  all  probability  he  might  in  safety  proceed  to 
that  eit3%  but  that  he  would  thus  render  a  favor  to  Dona 
Isabel,  who  was  minded  by  the  same  opportunity  to  with- 
draw from  the  hacienda,  —  her  presence  there  being  liable 
to  act  as  a  lure  to  either  party,  who  might  after  seizing 
her  person  levy  a  ransom  upon  the  family  which  even  their 
large  resources  would  be  severel}'  strained  to  meet. 

Although  the  fiction  was  maintained  that  her  assistance 
of  the  Liberal  cause  was  involuntary,  it  was  readily  sur- 
mised that  Dofia  Isabel  Garcia  was  in  reality  seeking  to 
avoid  the  vengeance  of  the  Conservatives,  while  their 
forces  were  so  demoralized  and  scattered  that  she  might 
hope  to  reach  Guanapila,  which  was  then  occupied  bj^  a 
patriot  guard,  before  the  tide  of  the  war  should  turn  and 
bring  the  army  of  the  Church  again  to  the  fore  en  masse^ 
—  collected  by  the  clarion  cry  of  fanaticism,  and  lavish'.y 
rewarded  from  the  hoards  of  silver  and  gold  drawn  from 
the  vaults  into  which  for  generations  had  been  drained  the 
prosperit}'  and  the  ver}'  life-blood  of  tlie  peasantry. 

Ashley  Ward  had  been  struck  with  admiration  of  the 
woman  who  thus  dared  the  dangers  of  the  road,  —  to 
which  she  had  been  no  stranger.  lie  had  felt  something  of 
the  chivalrous  enthusiasm  of  a  knight  of  old,  as  he  joined 
the  irregular  band  which  by  daylight  had  gathered  upon 
the  sandy  plain  before  the  straggling  village.  The  soldiers 
had  fallen  into  march  with  something  like  order,  with  Iluiz; 


U\ 


284 


CIIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


'  if 


i  1 


at  their  head,  —  for  once  with  an  anxious  face,  for  he  f«jlt 
that  tlie  die  was  cast,  and  that  he  had  raised  up  for  him- 
self an  enemy  whom  it  would  be  mad  temerit}'  to  face, 
and  hopeless  to  attempt  to  conciliate.  The  baggage-mules 
were  driven  by  the  leathern-clad  muleteers,  who  even  thus 
early  had  begun  their  piofane  adjurations  to  the  nimble- 
footed  beasts,  that  listened  with  quivering  ears  thrown 
back  in  obstinate  surprise  at  every  unwonted  silence.  The 
women  v/ho  had  come  from  other  villages  had  laughed 
and  chided  their  unruly  infants,  as  they  arranged  and  re- 
arranged their  baskets  of  maize  and  vegetables  upon  the 
panniers  of  their  donkeys,  if  they  were  fortunate  enough 
to  possess  any,  or  upon  their  own  shoulders  if  they 
were  to  walk ;  and  those  who  were  for  the  first  time  leav- 
ing their  birthplace  to  follow  the  fortunes  of  husband  or 
sweetheart,  had  burst  into  loud  fomentations.  Ashley  had 
been  glad  to  find  these  changed  to  laughter,  however, 
before  they  were  well  past  the  broken  wall  of  th^  rciiluc- 
tion-works ;  which  they  skirted,  entering  upon  ♦  je  bridle- 
path which  led  across  the  hill,  where  the  rouga  heaps  of 
sand  showed  through  the  scattered  cacti,  and  where,  by 
the  rude  wooden  crosses,  he  now  for  the  first  time  learned 
lay  the  village  graveyard. 

Pepe  had  ridden  sullenly  by  his  side.  He  had  been 
sent  back  with  a  sharp  reprimand  from  the  station  he  had 
taken  among  the  mounted  servants  who  surrounded  tl  ? 
carriage  of  Dona  Isabel,  Ruiz  in  petty  tyranny  refusin.< 
him  so  honorable  a  place.  A  glance  from  Chinita  had 
been  the  deepest  reproof  of  all ;  and  as  he  pondered  upon 
it,  certain  words  which  she  had  uttered,  and  which  he 
had  hitherto  forgotten,  had  come  into  his  mind.  As  t.^ey 
neared  the  gi'aveyard  his  ej'O  caught  vVtird's,  and  suddenly 
laying  his  hand  upon  the  bridle  of  the  American's  horse, 
he  had  muttered,  — 

"  Seiior,  she  thinks  I  have  forgotten  all  her  wishes ;  but 
there  is  not  even  one  so  foolish  that  1  scorn  it.  Turn  aside 
but  for  a  moment,  Senor,  —  here  where  the  adobe  has 
fallen,  your  horse  can  scramble  through  the  wall.  Follow 
me,  they  will  not  miss  us  before  we  can  reach  our  places 
again.  Caramba!  Don  Fernando  watches  me  as  a  cat 
watches  a  mouse.  Here,  Seiior,  —  never  mind  the  women. 
Stupids !    how  they   herd  their  donkeys  together,  when 


i-  I 


CHATA   AND   CHIN/TA. 


285 


for  he  felt 
ip  for  biin- 
;}'  to  face, 
;age-rnules 

even  thus 
he  iiimble- 
irs  thrown 
!nce.  The 
.d  laughed 
ed  and  re- 
1  upon  the 

te  enough 

i'S   if  they 

time  leav- 

lusband  or 

lishley  had 

however, 

th'-  roiiluc- 
♦  je  bridle- 
1  heaps  of 
where,  by 
ae  learned 

had  been 
ion  he  had 
unded  tl  :• 
y  refusing 
hinita  had 
lered  upon 

which  he 

As  t'^ey 

1  suddenly 

in's  horse, 

ishes ;  but 
rurn  aside 
adobe  has 
1.  Follow 
our  places 
}  as  a  cat 
he  women, 
her,  when 


they  might  have  the  whole  hillside  to  pick  tiicir  own  paths 
on  !  I'atiencc !  Let  us  wait  a  little,  Scfior !  Ah,"  lie 
reflected,  as  they  remained  silent  and  motionless  •'  there 
ifl  the  spot.  I  have  never  forgotten  it  since  1  followed 
her  through  the  rushes  dovn  tliere  by  tlio  stream,  and 
scratciicd  my  face  in  the  tunas,  darting  behind  them  that 
she  sliould  not  sec  me.  I  was  not  half  so  tired  as  Chinita 
was  though,  when  she  sat  down  to  rub  sand  upon  her 
-^^'ang  hands,  and  fell  asleep  with  the  stn  beating 
upon  her  head.  I  wonder  if  she  ever  thought  it  was  I 
who  coA  3red  her  face  with  her  ragged  reboso,  —  she  wears 
one  of  silk  now,  as  clean  and  soft  as  a  dove's  breast, 

—  or  that  I  lay  behind  the  big  pipec  of  the  llowering 
organ-plant  as  she  turned  over  the  fallen  cross  whicli  her 
h::nd  struck  against,  and  read  the  name  and  age  of  the 
American  who  iiad  been  murdered  years  before?  Who 
ever  would  have  thought — for  I  hated  her  then  if  I  did 
follow  her,  as  she  maddens  me  now  with  her  soft  eyes 
and  her  mocking  smile  —  that  I  should  be  bringing  here 
the  man  who  perhaps  is  just  the  handsome,  woman-mad- 
dening demon  they  say  that  other  was,  and  at  her  will  too? 
Ave  Maria  Purissima  !  what  God  wills  the  very  saiuLa 
themselves  may  not  say  No  to,  —  much  less  a  poor 
peasant  like  Pep^  Ortiz." 

These  thoughts,  perhaps  scarcely  in  the  order  in  which 
they  are  set  down,  passed  through  the  mind  of  Pepe,  as 
lingering  until  the  straggling  procession  had  passed,  he 
emerged  from  the  shade  of  such  an  organ-plant  as  had 
once  sheltered  him  years  ago,  and  taking  his  bearings 
with  unerring  eyes,  beckoned  to  Ashley,  — who  had  waited 
within  touch  of  his  hand,  and  whose  heart  had  begun  to 
beat  suffocatingl}',  though  he  knew  that  it  was  utterly 
improbable  that  anything  more  important  than  the  mound 
that  covered  the  bod}'  of  his  cousin  would  meet  his  eye, 

—  and  led  the  way  to  the  most  wind-swept  and  desolate 
portion  of  that  paupers'  acre,  and  presently  stooping 
where  the  ground  was  sunken  rather  than  heaped,  turned 
with  some  effort  the  half-buried  cross,  and  exposed  to 
Ashley's  view  the  name  from  which  his  own  had  been 
derived. 

The  young  man  gazed  at  it  in  a  sort  of  fascination, 
actually  spelling  the  letters  over  and  over.     He  felt  as  if 


\ 


'III 


1  f. 


M'; 


28G 


CtTATA   AND  CinNFTA, 


!  i  *'  :  ! 


a  part  of  himsolf  must  be  buried  there.  His  eyes  burned  ; 
the  glaring  sunshine  leaped  and  quivered  above  the  ill- 
carved  letters,  distorting  and  confounding  them.  His 
heart  boat  violently ;  every  sense  but  that  of  hearing 
seemed  to  fail  him,  and  every  sound  upon  the  air  became 
a  weird,  mysterious  voice,  —  blood  crying  unto  its  kin- 
dred blood. 

This  deep  emotion  fixed  the  indifferent  and  wandering 
eye  of  Pepu,  who,  holding  the  bridles  of  the  horses,  stot^cl 
near,  impatient  to  be  gone,  yet  intending  to  watch  out 
of  sight  the  last  stragglers  ;  for  it  was  with  a  double  i)ur- 
pose  he  had  turned  aside  to  point  out  the  grave  of  the  Ame- 
rican, —  first,  perhai)s,  to  gratify  the  seem ingl}' jesting  wish 
of  Chinita ;  and  then  to  seize  the  opportunity  to  turn 
his  ficet  steed  into  the  narrow  bridle-path  which  led  to 
mountain  villages,  where  he  shrewdly  suspected  Pedro 
might  be  found,  or  at  least  be  heard  of.  He  had  ))romised 
to  carry  the  message  of  Chinita  to  Pedro,  and  would  have 
set  forth  upon  the  very  night  she  had  charged  him 
with  it,  but  until  mounted  by  lluiz's  command  had  found 
it  impossible  to  provide  himself  with  a  horse,  without 
which  it  was  hopeless  for  him  to  attempt  his  quest.  To 
escape  the  discipline  of  the  ranks,  he  had  induced  Ashley 
to  retain  him  as  his  servant,  feeling  no  scruple  at  his  in- 
tended abandonment.  As  his  eye  rested  upon  the  pale 
and  excited  countenance  of  Ashley,  Chinita's  words,  with 
which  she  had  bade  him  taunt  him,  flashed  into  his  mind  ; 
yet  he  forbore  to  utter  them,  saying  presently  in  a  tone  of 
concern,  — 

"  Let  us  go  now,  Seiior,  it  is  growing  hot.  It  is  almost 
noon,  and  you  are  faint.  Let  us  ride  on,  and  I  will  point 
out  the  way  that  you  must  take  when  we  have  crossed  the 
face  of  the  hill.  Then  comes  a  slight  descent,  Seiior,  and 
upon  the  little  plain  that  lies  between  that  and  the  canon 
of  the  Water-pots  will  the  troop  stop  for  the  nooning.  This 
has  been  a  rapid  march.  Dona  Isabel  will  feel  all  the 
safer  when  she  is  once  on  the  highway.  But  as  for  us, 
Seiior,  we  must  part  company.  You  will  find  a  better 
servant ;  I  should  but  ill  serve  your  gi'ace.  You  know 
yourself  I  am  but  a  stupid  fellow,  and  it  is  only  the  patience 
of  3'our  grace  that  has  been  equal  to  my  ignorance." 

Ashley  heard  neither  the  excuses  of  Pepc  nor  his  own 


li.-i  \ 


CirATA  AND  cnrNiTA. 


287 


\  burned  ; 
3  the  ill- 
)ra.     Ills 

heariiij^ 
r  bccainu 
>  its  kill- 
zander  in  jjj 
ics,  stood 
i^atch  out 
ubie  piir- 
the  Anie- 
tinj^  '.vinli 

to  turn 
•li  led  to 
(d  l*cdro 
jM'omised 
>uld  have 
ged  him 
ad  found 

without 
est.     To 

Ashley 
it  his  in- 
thc  pale 
rds,  with 
is  mind ; 
a  tone  of 

is  almost 
vill  point 
)ssed  the 
nor,  and 
lie  canon 
This 
all  the 
3  for  us, 
a  better 
on  know 
patience 

his  own 


»S 


praises,  but  with  a  gesture  at  once  commanding  and  en- 
treating the  servant  to  leave  him,  said :  "  Tepo,  1  had 
forgotten.  There  is  something  which  will  keep  mo  still  at 
Trcs  llcrmanos.  The  Senora  Dofia  Isabel  must  pardon 
mc.  Go!  go  to  your  duty,  as  1  must  to  mine.  God !  how 
could  I  have  forgotten  it?  Oh  John,  John  !  does  time  and 
distance  make  men  so  unnatural?  Is  it  possible  I  could 
leave  the  place  where  you  were  so  foully  murdered,  without 
knowing  why  or  by  whom?  Who  killed  him,  and  why 
was  the  deadly'  and  secret  blow  struck?  Ah,  that  involves 
the  question  of  the  very  m3'stcry  I  came  hero  to  fathom, 
and  which  I  was  turning  my  back  upon  ;  for  I  am  con- 
vinced that  it  is  here,  and  not  by  foUov/ing  Dona  Isabel 
Garcia,  that  it  may  be  solved.  She  is  too  resolute,  too 
astute  >  nothing  is  to  be  forced  or  beguiled  from  her  Hi)s ! 
But  now  that  the  spell  of  her  presence  is  removed,  I  may 
learn  everything  from  these  people,  who  with  all  their  cun- 
ning and  clannish  devotion  can  surely  be  influenced  by 
reasons  such  as  I  can  give." 

"  Who  would  have  guessed  the  sight  of  a  grave  would 
so  stir  the  blood?"  soliloquized  Pepu.  "  Can  it  bo  that 
Chinita  —  But  no,  she  was  more  in  jest  than  earnest ;  sho 
always  laughed  at  the  nina  Chata  for  her  sorrow  for  tho 
foreigner.  —  Well,  all  must  die ! "  ho  said  aloud.  "  Believe 
me,  Seiior,  after  all  these  years  a  knife-thrust  is  a  littlo 
matter  to  inquire  into.  Caramba  I  Chinita  herself  would 
tell  you  that  to  turn  back  on  a  journey  because  of  the  dead 
is  an  omen  of  evil ;  't  was  not  for  that  she  would  have 
me  show  j'ou  the  grave  of  your  countryman,  —  God  rest 
him!" 

Ashley  looked  at  him  keenly.  "Ah,"  ho  said,  *' it  is 
then  no  accident  that  you  have  brought  mo  here?  God  ! 
what  a  mystery !  Pepo,  toll  Chinita  I  know  her  thoughts, 
and  that  I  never  will  rest  till  I  prove  them  right  or 
wrong.  She  is  a  strange  creature,  and  likely  to  prove 
an  enigma  to  more  men  than  myself.  Poor  lad,  she  is 
not  for  you  to  dream  of." 

"  I  will  not  see  her  again  till  I  can  tell  her  that  which 
shall  please  her,"  said  Pepe.  "  Look  3'ou,  Senor,  she  is 
one  who  will  have  the  world  turn  to  suit  her." 

*'  A  wilful  girl,"  thought  Ashley,  with  judicial  disappro- 
val.    "  She  has  all  the  craftiness  and  deceit  of  the  Indian 


'M 


Ih*' 


288 


CJ/ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


be  certain  that  no  straggler  was 
movements.     The  troops  and  their  fol- 


and  the  pride  and  passion  of  a  Spaniard  ;  3'ct  what  if 
I  slioiild  follow  her?  No,  no!  mere  circumstance  and 
conjecture  sliall  not  turn  rae  I  —  Adios,  Pepo,"  ho  said 
aloud,  "and  beware!  It  is  Dofta  Isabid  you  serve,  and 
not  the  young  girl  who  has  bewitched  you." 

Pepo  smiled  vaguely ;  his  glance  roved  over  the  land- 
scape. "  Her  heart  is  virgin  honey  in  a  cup  of  alabaster ! " 
he  murmured.  Ashley  was  becoming  accustomed  to  the 
poetic  expressions  of  these  unlettered  rancheros,  and  with 
some  impatience  took  in  his  own  hand  the  bridle-rein  of 
his  horse,  and  reminding  Pepe  that  it  was  nearly  noon, 
and  that  he  would  be  missed  should  he  longer  delay,  bade 
him  mount  and  hasten  with  messages  of  excuse  to  Dona 
Isabel  for  his  own  sudden  return  to  Trcs  Ilermanos. 

With  the  customary  apparent  submission  of  a  peasant, 
Pepe  prepared  to  obey.     He  was  in  fact  anxious  to  set 
forth  as  soon  as  he  could 
near  to  mark  his 

lowers  had  disappeared.  "■  The  Senor  Don  'G  uardo  should 
leave  this  solitary  spot  on  the  instant,"  he  said  with  genu- 
injB  concern  ;  "in  these  days  of  revolution,  one  can  never 
sa^'  what  dangerous  people  may  be  wandering  abroad." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from  them,"  answered  Ashley, 
"  unless  it  should  be  that  they  might  attempt  to  rob  mo 
of  the  horse  Dofla  Isabel  has  lent  mc.  Well,  for  its 
sake,  I  will  be  prudent;  though  in  truth  the  sight  of  a 
ghost  in  tins  desolate  spot  of  sunken  graves  would  seem 
more  probable  than  that  any  living  being  should  pass  here. 
Now,  then,  good-by,  Pep^." 

♦*  Until  our  next  meeting,  Seiior !  "  replied  Pep^,  gravely 
lifting  his  hat.  He  had  attached  himself  to  Ashley,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  an  evil  omen  that  they  should  part  at  a 
grave,  and  he  thus  attempted  to  console  himself  by  the 
pretence  that  it  was  but  for  a  little  while.  "  For  a  short 
time  Senor,  and  God  keep  you ! " 

Ashley  shook  his  hand  warmly.  The  ranchero  drew  his 
hat  over  his  eyes,  adjusted  his  serape  so  that  his  face  was 
almost  hidden,  and  dropping  into  that  utterly  ungraceful 
posture  into  which  the  skilled  horseman  of  Mexico  relapses 
when  he  suffers  his  steed  to  take  his  own  wa}'  and  pace 
across  a  wearisome  stretch  of  country,  he  t,urned  his  horse's 
head  toward  the  bridle-path  they  had  lert,  and  slowly  ro- 


CJ/AIA   A  AD   CJllNirA 


289 


coded  from  Ashley's  gaze.  Once  however  hoj-ond  the  croat 
of  the  hill,  the  rider's  eye  brightened,  his  figure  straight- 
ened ;  a  distant  sound  of  voices  reached  his  keen  ear,  — 
it  was  80  remote  that  but  for  the  rarity  of  the  atrnosphcrc 
it  would  have  failed  to  reach  him.  Bending  his  head,  he 
listened  intently  for  a  nioniont ;  then  raising  it  he  gazed 
searchingly  on  every  hand,  rode  for  a  short  distance  to  tlm 
right,  guided  his  nimble-footed  beast  down  the  cleft  sid(>s 
of  a  deep  ravine  and  along  the  dry  bottom  of  a  rock- 
strewn  path,  which  rapid  floods  had  in  some  past  time  cut 
in  their  fierce  descent  from  the  steep  sides  of  the  frowning 
mountains,  and  so  gradually  gained  the  dark  and  solitary 
defiles  that  led  directly  to  those  eyries  of  bandit  moun- 
taineers, who  under  the  guise  of  shepherds,  charcoal-burn- 
ers, and  goat-herds  had  been,  as  Pepi'  well  knew,  the 
chosen  comrades  of  Pedro  Gomez  and  his  mates  in  the 
boyhood  days  of  that  Don  Leon  whoso  wild  deeds  were 
still  the  theme  of  many  a  tale,  and  like  the  story  of  his 
death  became  more  mythical  with  every  repetition. 

Pope  rode  steadily  on  for  hours,  picturing  to  himself  his 
meeting  with  Pedro  should  he  find  him,  or  the  quiet  exul- 
tation of  Chinita  when  she  should  hear  that  he  had  deserted 
the  troops,  or  of  the  return  of  Don  'Guardo  to  the  haci- 
enda. In  his  heart  he  was  not  displeased  that  tiie  Ameri- 
can should  be  separated  from  Chinita,  though  it  left  her 
the  more  completely  to  the  gallant  care  of  Ruiz.  He  had 
comprehended  instantly  the  emotion  which  had  seized 
upon  Ashley  at  his  kinsman's  grave,  —  the  instinct  for 
revenge.  He  said  to  himself  that  those  Americans,  after 
all,  were  people  of  sensibility,  and  he  felt  a  certain  satis- 
faction that  he  had  been  the  instrument  of  calling  into 
action  a  sentiment  that  did  the  foreigner  so  much 
credit. 

Meanwhile  the  heat  of  noon  passed,  and  A8hle3'*8  horse 
stood  with  patient  dejection  in  the  shadow  of  the  huge 
cactus  to  which  he  had  been  tethered,  not  even  taking 
advantage  of  the  freedom  allowed  by  the  length  of  the 
rope,  so  little  temptation  to  browse  was  offered  b}'  the 
sparse  and  coarse  tufts  of  herbage  which  struggled  into 
existence  here  and  there.  The  time  wore  on,  and  an  oc- 
casional stamp  attested  his  disapprobation  of  a  master 
who  lay  prone  upon  the  ground  under  a  mcsquite  tree 


4\ 


\x 


290 


en  ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


M   I 


.tr'i 


when  the  sun  shone  hottest,  anci  who  when  the  cool  breeze 
of  afternoon  swept  over  the  silent  spot,  stood  long  and 
still  beside  the  grave  he  had  not  sought,  and  yet  felt 
infinite  reluctance  to  leave. 

It  was  a  foolish  thought,  but  as  he  gazed  across  tlic 
broad  valley  to  the  great  square  of  buildings  set  among 
the  fields,  the  youth  imagined  how  indeed  the  dead  man 
might  at  times  steal  forth  to  visit  again  those  fertile 
scones  where  he  had  lived  and  loved.  As  he  stood  there, 
Ashley  could  see  the  people  like  pigmies  passing  in  and 
out  the  great  gateway,  or  going  from  hut  to  hut  in  the 
village.  There  was  one  figure  —  it  seemed  that  of  a 
woman  —  which  his  eye  sought  from  time  to  time,  as  it 
appeared  and  disappeared  in  the  corn  and  bean  fields,  and 
at  last  came  out  on  the  open  road  that  lay  between  them 
and  the  reduction-works.  He  was  becoming  quite  fascin- 
ated by  its  hesitating  yet  persistent  progress,  when  ho 
was  startled  by  a  sound ;  and  glancing  up,  he  saw  a  man 
leaning  upon  the  crumbling  wall  and  regarding  him  with 
a  gaze  &o  bewildered,  so  fixed,  that  involuntarily  he 
moved  a  step  toward  him. 

The  stranger  started,  as  if  some  frightful  spell  had  been 
broken.  Ashley  saw  that  he  crossed  himself,  and  mut- 
tered some  invocation ;  yet  that  he  had  not  the  look  of  a 
nervous  man  or  a  coward,  but  rather  of  a  somnambulist 
pacing  the  earth  under  the  impulse  of  some  horrible 
dream.  The  man  was  not  ill-looking,  —  no,  decidtdly 
not ;  and  though  his  skin  was  deeply  browned  as  if  from 
much  exposure,  and  his  cheek  bones  were  prominent, 
giving  his  face  a  certain  cast  below  the  eyes  that  was 
plebeian  or  Indian  in  character,  the  eyes  themselves  were 
dilated  and  brilliant,  and  the  straight  nose  and  pointed 
beard  gave  him  the  air  of  a  Spanish  cavalier,  though  he 
wore  the  broad  sombrero  and  scrape  of  a  common  soldier 
of  the  rural  order.  Perhaps  on  ordinary  occasions  even  a 
i^ore  practised  eye  than  that  of  Ashley  Ward  would  have 
accepted  the  stranger  for  what  he  purported  to  be ;  but 
the  American  with  an  extraordinary  feeling  of  repulsion 
little  accounted  for  by  the  mere  sense  of  intrusion  caused 
by  the  man's  unexpected  appearance,  at  once  leaped  to  the 
conclusion  that  his  dress  —  though  he  had  no  iippcaranco 
of  strangeness  in  it — was  virtually  a  disguise,  and  that 


en  ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


291 


ool  breeze 

long  and 

yet  felt 

across  the 
set  among 
dead  man 
osc  fertile 
ood  there, 
ing  in  and 
hut  in  the 

that  of  a 
time,  as  it 

fields,  and 
ween  them 
iiite  fascin- 
I,  when  he 

saw  a  man 
g  him  with 
untarily  ho 

ell  had  been 
f,  and  mut- 
le  look  of  a 
Dmnambulist 
ime  horrible 
3,  decidedly 
d  as  if  from 
1  prominent, 
^es  that  "was 
nselves  were 
and  pointed 
r,  though  he 
umon  soldier 
asions  even  a 
d  would  have 
a  to  be ;  but 
[  of  repulsion 
rusion  caused 
lof^ped  to  the 
lo  ivppearanco 
lise,  and  that 


instead  of  a  soldier  of  the  ranks,  the  man  before  him  was 
of  no  ordinary  position  or  character. 

The  new-comer  seemed  to  have  risen  out  of  the  ground, 
so  stealtliily  had  he  approached.  It  would  have  been 
quite  possible  for  him,  tall  as  he  was,  to  have  skirted  tluj 
wall  without  observation  from  any  one  within  the  enclo- 
sure. But  undoubtedly  he  had  taken  no  precaution  in 
that  solitary  place,  which  except  at  funeral  times  was 
shunned  as  the  haunt  of  ghosts  and  ill-omened  birds  and 
reptiles,  and  thus  had  come  unexpectedly  upon  the  motion- 
less figure  of  the  tall  young  man  clothed  in  a  plain  riding- 
suit  of  black,  with  bright  conspicuous  locks  at  the  moment 
uncovered,  and  fair-skinned  face  of  a  characteristic  Amer- 
ican type,  —  all  unremarkable  in  themselves  but  associated 
in  the  mind  of  the  observer  with  one  whom  he  had  seen 
but  twice  or  thrice,  and  this  on  the  mad  night  when  the 
moon  had  shone  down  upon  a  victim  quivering  in  the 
death-agony  above  which  he  had  exulted. 

The  two  men  held  each  the  other's  gaze  in  silence  for  a 
full  minute,  both  unmindful  of  the  common  courtesy  usual 
in  such  chance  encounters  in  solitary  places.  Then  re- 
covering from  the  superstitious  awe  which  had  over- 
powered him,  the  Mexican  stepped  over  tho  broken  wall. 
Ashlej'  noticed  as  he  did  so  that  heavy  silver  spurs  were  on 
his  heels,  and  that  the  fringed  sides  of  his  leathern  trousers 
were  stained  as  though  with  hard  riding,  and  that,  as 
if  from  habit,  rather  than  any  purpose  of  menace,  his  ner- 
vous hand  closed  upon  the  pistol  in  his  scarlet  band,  as 
with  a  few  long  strides  he  reached  the  spot  on  which 
Ashley  stood  with  that  air  of  defiance  which  a  sudden  in- 
trusion upon  a  solitude  however  secure  naturally  arouses 
in  a  man  who  is  neither  a  coward  nor  m  adept  in  the 
self-command  that  is  perhaps  tlie  most  [xcrfect  substitute 
for  invincible  courage. 

"  Senor,"  said  the  Mexican,  "  your  pistols  are  on  your 
saddle.  You  are  right;  this  is  an  evil  habit  to  wear 
them  so  readily  at  one's  side.  Pardon  me  if  in  my  sur- 
prise I  assumed  an  attitude  of  menace ;  but  these  are 
troublous  times.  One  scarcely  expects  to  find  a  cavalier 
alone  in  such  a  place."  He  looked  around  him  with  a 
smile,  which  did  not  hinder  a  quiver  of  the  lip  expressing 
an  excitement  which  his  commonplace  words  denied. 


m 


41' 


;!  V. 


■\  '> 


WiW^ 


i  V 


JS;    !;i 


^■i 

■■■ 

If': 

.  -i 

m  ■  - 

■1: 

■  't 

m 

^^■■i 

■■1 

202 


CHATA   AND   CIUNirA. 


Ashley  regarded  the  speaker  with  ever  increasing  repng- 
nuncc.  It  was  true  his  pistols  hung  from  the  saddle,  but 
tliere  was  a  small  knife  in  his  belt,  and  his  hand  wan- 
dered to  it  stealthily  as  he  answered  :  ''  Seiior,  I  make  no 
inquir}^  why  you  are  here,  and  on  foot,  —  which  you  must 
acknowledge  might  well  cause  some  curiosity  in  this  place ; 
but  in  all  courtesy  I  trust  your  errand  is  a  happier  one 
than  mine.  Whatever  it  is,  I  will  not  intrude  upon  it 
longer  than  will  suffice  to  plant  this  cross."  And  with  an 
air  of  perfect  security,  yet  with  his  knife  in  hand,  he  bent 
to  the  work,  which  the  other  regarded  with  an  almost  in- 
credulous gaze,  —  the  preservation  of  a  grave  or  its  tokens 
being  a  sort  of  sentimentality  to  which  by  tradition  and 
training  he  was  a  stranger ;  and  to  see  it  exhibited  for  the 
first  time  in  this  God's  acre  of  laborers,  almost  sufficed  to 
dissipate  the  impression  the  unexpected  encounter  had 
made  upon  him.  As  Ashle.y  quietl}'  pursued  his  ■•.vork, 
the  new-comer  had  an  opportunity  to  look  at  him  narrowly. 
After  all,  this  one  was  like  man}'  another  American !  Yet 
there  was  something  in  the  3'oung  man's  appearance  that 
brought  the  sweat  to  the  brow  of  the  soldier ;  he  pushed 
back  his  hat,  and  breathed  hard.  As  he  did  so,  Ashley 
braced  the  cross  against  his  knee.  The  action  brought 
the  letters  into  clear  and  direct  view.  The  eyes  of  the 
Mexican  rested  upon  them.  He  fell  back  a  step  or  two  in 
superstitious  awe,  involuntarily  exclaiming : 

"  Cristot  was  he  buried  here?    And  who  are  you?" 

Ashley  glanced  up.  There  was  a  revelation  to  him  in 
the  questioner's  disordered  and  ashy  countenance.  He 
dropped  the  cross,  sprang  over  the  grave,  and  seized  the 
stranger  by  the  right  arm.  "Who  are  you  who  ask?" 
he  cried.  "  What  do  you  know  of  the  man  who  is  buried 
there?" 

"  My  faith !  you  are  a  brave  man  to  put  such  questions  ! " 
retorted  the  new-comer,  wrenching  himself  free.  Ashley 
had  spoken  in  English,  but  the  violence  of  his  act  had 
interpreted  his  words.  "  Take  your  pistols  and  defend 
yourself,  if  you  are  here  for  vengeance.  Kill  him?  Yes  ; 
I  killed  him  as  I  would  a  dog.  Faith,  I  thought  it  was 
his  accursed  ghost  that  had  risen  to  challenge  hie ! " 

"  I  am  hi";  cousin  !  Assassin,  give  me  reasons  for  your 
deed !  "  cried  Ashley,  furiously,  yet  with  a  remembrance 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


293 


ing  rcpiig- 
jacUlle,  but 
land  wan- 
I  make  no 
1  you  must 
this  place ; 
appier  one 
Ic  upon  it 
nd  witli  an 
id,  he  bent 
I  almost  in- 
r  its  tokens 
idition  and 
ited  for  the 

sufficed  to 
ounter  had 
I  his  v/ork, 
n  narrowly, 
rican !  Yet 
;arance  that 
;  he  pushed 

so,  Ashley 
on  brought 
jyes  of  the 
3p  or  two  in 

•e  you  ?  " 
n  to  him  in 
nance.  He 
seized  the 
who  ask  ?  " 
ho  is  buried 

questions ! " 
■ce.  Ashley 
his  act  had 
and  defend 
him?  Yes; 
)ught  it  was 
ige  hie!" 
ions  for  your 
■emembrance 


that  to  every  criminal  should  be  allowed  some  chance  of 
justification. 

But  the  Mexican  seemed  little  inclined  to  profit  by  it. 

"  Reasons !  "  cried  he.  "  Yes,  such  reasons  as  1  gave 
him  when  I  thrust  the  knife  into  his  heart."  He  raised 
liis  pistol  and  fired.  The  shot  passed  so  close  to  Ashley's 
temple  that  he  heard  it  whiz  through  the  air.  In  the  same 
instant  the  two  men  clinched.  The  horse,  which  during 
the  controversy  had  plunged  and  reared  madly,  broke 
away,  and  careering  over  the  graves  galloped  wildly  down 
the  hillside.  A  fresh  horse  with  its  rider  at  the  same  in- 
stant dashed  into  the  enclosure,  and  a  voice  cried,  "  For 
God's  sake  my  General !  what  adventure  is  this  ?  Mount ! 
mount !  there  is  no  time  to  be  lost ! " 

The  combatants  at  the  sound  of  a  third  voice  had  in- 
voluntarily paused.  Had  the  knife  in  the  hand  of  the 
American  been  in  that  of  the  Mexican  it  would  have 
sheathed  itself  in  his  opponent's  heart ;  but  Ashley,  less 
ready  in  its  use,  arrested  his  hand  midway.  His  passion 
half  spent,  the  scarcely  healed  wound  throbbing  in  his 
shoulder,  his  strength  exhausted,  he  had  much  ado  to  keep 
himself  from  staggering. 

"  A  touch  of  my  sabre  would  finish  him,"  said  the  new- 
comer coolly,  as  he  reined  in  his  restive  horse,  and  put 
his  hand  on  the  long  weapon  swinging  from  his  saddle. 
But  the  soldier  stopped  hiiu. 

"No  killing  in  cold  blood,"  he  exclaimed.  "'Tis  a 
madman,  but  his  fury  is  over.  What  brings  you  here, 
lleyes?    Were  you  not  to  wait  at  the  rendezvous?" 

"  Wait!"  he  retorted,  "this  is  no  time  to  wait!  We 
are  already  a  day  too  late.  A  thousand  men  are  on  the 
road  before  us,  m}^  General !  We  let  them  pass  us  this 
morning  as  we  lingered  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  moun- 
tain in  the  Devil's  gate  !  " 

"And  the  troops  are  there  still?"  cried  the  other 
furiously.  "  Where  is  Clioolooke?  Did  3'ou  not  think  to 
bring  me  a  horse  ?  Back  to  the  Zahuan,  man  !  We  must 
begin  the  march  this  ver}"^  niglit.  1  know  Ruiz ;  he  will 
yield  in  a  moment  at  sight  of  inc ! " 

"  Not  ho  !  "  answered  Reyes,  "-lie  has  a  new  patroness  ; 
Dona  Isabel  herself  is  with  liiui." 

"  Isabel !  "  cried  the  ollicer  with  an  oath.     "  Ah,  then, 


•  f  iL 


^jis 


^  m 


294 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


'•II 

,11! 


Trcs  Hermanos  is  partisan  at  last!  Carrhi!  my  lady 
Isabel  shall  find  what  she  has  begun  shall  be  soon  ended  !  " 
He  put  a  small  silver  whistle  to  his  lips  and  blew  a  shrill 
blast,  which  wna  answered  by  a  neigh.  A  black  horse 
lifted  its  head  and  looked  over  the  wall  with  a  gaze  of 
almost  human  intelligence. 

"  He  followed  me  at  a  word,"  exclaimed  Reyes,  "  and 
stood  by  the  wall  like  a  statue  when  I  bade  him.  Never 
Avas  there  such  another  horse  as  your  black  Choolookc, 
my  General.  Even  the  stampede  of  that  unbroken  brute 
that  was  tethered  here  could  not  startle  him." 

"Ay,  I  discipline  horses  better  than  I  do  men,  —  eh, 
Choolookc  ?  "  The  horse  with  its  jingling  accoutrements 
had  cantered  into  the  enclosure,  and  with  one  bound  his 
owner  was  in  the  saddle. 

All  had  passed  in  the  few  minutes  in  which  Ashley  was 
recovering  breath,  and  in  utter  bewilderment  endeavoring 
to  gain  some  insight  into  the  meaning  of  this  rapid  trans- 
formation scene,  of  which  he  himself  had  formed  a  part. 
As  his  late  opponent  sprang  into  the  saddle,  he  could 
have  fancied  he  heard  the  sound  of  the  bugle,  so  alert 
were  the  man's  movements,  so  soldierly  his  bearing. 
IJut  in  the  midst  of  his  involuntary  admiration  he  did  not 
forget  the  extraordinary  relations  in  which  they  stood 
to  each  other.  He  threw  himself  before  the  horse  at  the 
imminent  risk  of  being  trampled  down.  "  Your  name  !  " 
he  cried.  "  By  your  own  admission  you  are  my  cousin's 
murderer.  We  must  meet  again !  I  am  Ashley  Ward ; 
and  you  ?  " 

"  Out  of  the  way  !  "  cried  the  rider,  checking  his  horse 
by  a  dexterous  turn  of  his  hand.  "  My  name?  Ah,  yes ! 
Toll  them  there,"  and  he  nodded  in  the  direction  of  the 
haeionda,  "  the}'  will  soon  have  reason  never  to  forget  it !  " 
He  hesitated ;  plunged  the  spurs  into  his  already  im- 
patient steed,  and  dashed  furiousl}'  away,  followed  by 
lleyes  ;  then  rose  in  his  stirrups  to  shout  back  in  defiance 
the  name  —  "  Ramirez  !  " 


my  lady 

n  cmleil ! " 

ew  a  shrill 

lack  horse 

a  gaze  of 

ives,  "  and 
in.  Never 
Choolooke, 
okeu  brute 

men,  —  ch, 
ioutrements 
3  bound  his 

Ashley  was 
iudeavoring 
rapid  trans- 
med  a  part, 
e,  he  could 
rle,  so  alert 
lis   bearing, 
m  he  did  not 
they  stood 
horse  at  the 
our  name !  " 
1  my  cousin's 
shlcy  Ward; 

ng  his  horse 
)?  Ah,  yes! 
action  of  the 
io  forget  it ! " 
already  iui- 
followed  by 
;k  in  defiance 


XXXI. 

Ramirez  !  Ashley's  heart  bounded,  his  brain  throbbed 
dizzily  yet  acutely.  Here  was  no  obscure  assassin,  who 
once  escaping  him  would  perhaps  be  lost  forever. 

The  name  was  on  every  lip  with  those  of  Juarez,  Ortega, 
DegoUado,  Miramon,  and  a  score  of  other  popular  chief- 
tains who  of  one  part}'^  oi  another,  or  of  independent  fac- 
tions, attracted  to  themselves  a  host  of  followers,  more  by 
their  own  personal  magnetism  than  for  the  sake  of  any 
principles  they  represented.  In  that  time  of  anarchy  any 
head  that  rose  above  the  common  herd  led  enthusiastic 
multitudes,  who  followed  a  nod  and  applauded  to  the  echo 
even  one  deed  of  daring.  But  Ramirez  held  his  prestige  by 
no  such  recent  and  uncertain  tenure  ;  throughout  the  long 
years  of  revolution  he  had  been  a  central  figure  in  the 
bloody  drama.  Even  his  recent  defeat  at  El  Toro  and  his 
subsequent  disappearance  had  added  but  a  fresh  glamor  of 
mystery  to  his  adventurous  career,  without  detracting 
from  the  almost  superstitious  awe  with  which  he  was  re- 
garded. It  was  believed  that  he  would  reappear  when  and 
where  least  expected.  Ashley  Ward  had  smiled  covertly 
at  the  strange  and  daring  escapades  attributed  to  this 
man.  He  had  become  in  his  mind  a  n'rure  of  romance ; 
and  here  in  the  broad  day  he  had  risen  before  him,  the 
self-denounced  murderer  of  John  A  ^hley,  —  and  as  sud- 
denly as  he  had  come,  so  had  he  escaped  him. 

Thinking  no  more  of  the  cross,  whi  ..  had  fallen  upon 
the  ground,  hiding  beneath  it  the  name  that  had  been  so 
long  preserved  for  so  strange  a  purpose,  Ashley  Ward 
turned  from,  the  sunken  graves  and  striding  across  the 
mounds,  scarred  and  broken  by  the  sacrilegious  tread  of 
the  horses'  feet,  stood  for  a  moment  upon  the  broken 
wall,  scanning  the  countr}'  in  his  excilcMcnt  for  some  sign 
of  the  desperate  men  who  but  a  few  monionts  before  had 
urged  their  restive  steeds  up  the  steep  path  and  disap- 


m 


m 


296 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


Rtvi 


m 


:1  ■  !•  ■ 


peared  over  the  crest  of  the  hill.  He  saw  his  own  reo- 
reant  steed  galloping  toward  the  hacienda  walls,  keeping 
the  high-road,  on  past  the  reduction-works  and  the  long 
stretch  of  open  country  beyond,  and  plunging  and  rearing 
at  the  fatal  mesquite-tree.  The  superstitious  vaqueros 
had  instinctively  imbued  their  animals  with  the  same  irra- 
tional terrors  in  which  they  had  themselves  been  trained. 
Yet  no  sight  of  ghost  or  smell  of  blood  lingered  there  to 
rouse  memory  or  vengeance.  Their  waiting-place  had  been 
that  long-forgotten  grave  upon  the  desolate  hillside. 

Ashley  leaped  from  the  wall  and  rapidly  began  the 
descent  to  the  valley.  The  sun  was  still  high  in  the 
heavens,  for  the  scene  we  have  recorded  had  passed  in 
less  than  a  brief  quarter  of  an  hour.  As  he  walked  on, 
gradually  iUlling  into  a  more  natural  pace,  the  whole 
matter  took  definite  form  and  coherence  in  his  mind. 
That  which  had  been  so  unexpected,  so  unnatural,  seemed 
to  be  the  event  to  which  his  whole  journey  to  Mexico, 
all  his  wanderings,  his  strange  and  wearisome  experiences, 
bad  inevitably  and  naturally  tended.  And  then  arose 
a  point  beyond.  His  work  at  Tres  Hermanos  seemed 
ended ;  the  primal  cause  of  his  being  there  was  forgotten. 
The  definite  thought  now  in  his  mind  was  to  reach  the 
hacienda,  provide  himself  anew  with  horse,  guide,  and 
arms,  and  follow  on  the  path  which  Ramirez  had  chosen, 
and  upon  which  he  would  sooner  or  later  re-appear,  de- 
coyed by  the  rich  booty  that  Dofla  Isabel  had  intrusted 
to  the  weak  and  presumably  faithless  Ruiz.  C6uld  he 
reach  and  warn  her  in  time? 

Ashley's  scarce-healed  wound  was  throbbing  painfully, 
the  way  was  long,  the  heat  intense ;  yet  he  pressed 
on  resolutely,  though  at  last  he  staggered  as  he  went. 
He  sat  down  to  rest  awhile  among  the  dry  rushes  of  the 
spent  watercourse,  under  a  straggling  cotton  wood-tree, 
the  few  poor  leaves  of  which  scarcely  sufficed  to  shade 
him  from  the  fierce  rays  of  the  sun.  A  fever  heat  was  in 
his  veins ;  wild  theories  and  speculations  passed  through 
his  brain,  —  some  of  them,  perhaps,  not  far  from  being 
keys  to  the  mystery  of  that  tragedy  which  that  day  for 
the  first  time  had  become  to  his  ?  lind  other  than  a  vague 
and  gloomy  fantasy.  Now,  like  the  murderer  himself,  it 
was  real,  absorbing,  appalling. 


CHATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


297 


own  reo- 
,  kteping 

the  long 
id  rearing 

vaqueros 
jame  irra- 
n  trained, 
d  there  to 
I  had  been 
ide. 

began  the 
gh  in  the 

passed  in 
iralked  on, 
the  whole 

his  mind, 
al,  seemed 

0  Mexico, 
?periences, 
then  arose 
[OS  seemed 

1  forgotten. 
I  reach  the 
guide,  and 
ad  chosen, 
ippear,  de- 
1  intrusted 

C6uld  he 

r  painfully, 
le   pressed 

he  went, 
shes  of  the 
1  wood- tree, 
d  to  shade 
leat  was  in 
ed  through 
from  being 
lat  day  for 
lan  a  vague 

himself,  it 


The  young  man  rose  and  again  pressed  on.  After  the 
descent  to  the  long  rude  wall  of  the  reduction-works,  ho 
skirted  it  slowly,  thinking  as  he  went  how  changed  the 
aspect  of  the  place  must  be  since  his  cousin  had  ridden 
forth  to  his  death.  How  proudly  John  had  written, 
and  almost  vauntingly,  of  the  prosperity  his  management 
had  inaugurated,  of  the  crowds  of  laden  animals  that 
passed  in  and  out  of  the  wide  gates,  of  the  men  who  led 
their  slow,  laborious  lives  among  those  primitive  mills 
and  wide  floors  of  trodden  ores. 

Ashley  glanced  at  the  great  square  mass  of  walls  and 
towers  of  Tres  Hermanos,  glistening  in  the  distance. 
To  his  weary  eye  it  looked  far  away ;  yet  doubtless  he 
thought  it  had  been  but  the  ride  of  a  few  eager  minutes 
to  the  lover,  as  he  went  at  midnight  to  cast  a  glance  at 
the  walls  that  circled  his  mistress,  or  to  rein  his  horse 
beneath  her  window  that  he  might  win  a  word  or  glance 
from  her  who  whispered  from  above.  These,  Ashley  had 
heard,  were  lovers'  ways  in  Mexico  ;  he  did  not  know  that 
no  maiden  of  Tres  Hermanos  ever  occupied  one  of  the 
few  apartments  whose  windows  opened  toward  the  outer 
air.  Yet  as  he  debated  the  matter  with  himself,  it  be- 
came more  and  more  probable  to  him  that  John  Ashley 
had  upon  the  fatal  night  been  actually  within  the  walls 
of  the  hacienda,  and  been  stealthily  followed  thence  by 
his  treacherous  rival,  —  for  what,  he  thought,  even  to  a 
Spaniard,  could  justify  so  foul  a  murder  but  the  falseness 
of  his  mistress,  the  triumph  of  a  hated  rival?  Pedro's 
taciturnity  and  gloom  Ashley  construed  as  proofs  of  his 
complicity  in  the  crime.  Even  then  Ramirez  had  been 
a  chieftain  of  renown,  and  Pedro  in  his  youth  had  been 
a  soldier,  a  free  rider,  of  whom  strange  tales  were  told. 
Was  it  not  probable  that  he  liad  opened  the  gate  at  a 
comrade's  bidding,  —  or,  more  likely  still,  had  bidden  him 
wait  beneath  the  tree  where  the  favored  lover  was  went  to 
mount  his  horse,  and  so  take  him  unawares?  Ashlev  re- 
niembered  that  such,  it  had  been  said,  had  been  the  man- 
ner of  his  cousin's  taking  off.  He  had  been  slain  with  the 
swiftness  and  sureness  of  avsecret  and  unhesitating  avenger. 

Tlie  ardent  youth  railed  at  the  mocking  chances  that 
had  combined  to  sull'or  Ramirez  to  escape  him  in  the  un- 
premeditated struggle  in  which  they  hud  clinched  with  a 


^m 


U'.: 


:•  ^'h 


N'f'*i(Oi 


iilil 


ill', 


298 


C//ATA   AND   ClIINITA. 


deadly  enmity.  In  such  a  struggle  he  could  have  found 
himself  the  victor  without  remorse,  or  could  have  died 
without  regret ;  but  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  follow  a 
man  for  blood.  Yet  neither  could  he  shut  his  ears  to 
that  cry  for  vengeance,  for  justice,  which  seemed  ringing 
through  the  sultry  stillness,  —  the  more  importunate  as 
the  possibilities  of  their  attainment  si  aped  themselves  in 
his  mind. 

That  this  must  be  a  personal  matter  between  himself  and 
Ramirez  was  clear.  At  any  time  it  would  probably  have 
been  useless  for  an  alien  to  have  denounced  so  popular  and 
influential  a  man  as  the  proud  and  daring  revolucionario. 
To  attempt  his  arrest  for  a  murder  commi*;tGd  3'ears  before 
and  probably  in  rivalry  for  a  lady's  favor,  would  be  but  to 
throw  a  new  mystcrj'  about  him,  and  add  a  fresh  legend 
of  romance  to  those  which  already  made  blm  rather  a 
character  of  ideal  chivalr}'  than  of  mere  vulgai  overy-day 
lawlessness  and  semi-barbarity.  Though  the  brilliant 
adventurer  was  now  undor  a  temporary  cloud,  one  threat 
of  attack  from  law  would  make  him  again  a  popular  idol ; 
indeed  it  was  likely  that  a  pronunciamiento  in  his  favor 
would  be  the  immediate  result,  and  that  in  falling  into 
his  hands  the  Amevican  would  lose,  if  not  his  life,  at  least 
all  opportunity  either  of  obtaining  the  satisfaction  of  the 
law  for  his  cousin's  death,  or  of  investigating  further  those 
doubts  and  probabilities  which  he  had  forgotten,  but  which 
now  came  upon  him  with  redoubled  force. 

The  excited  Ashley  planned  in  his  mind  to  refresh  himself 
upon  reaching  the  hacienda,  and  demanding  horse  and 
guide  to  set  forth  upon  that  very  night,  hoping  to  rejoin 
the  force  at  daybreak.  It  was  useless,  he  reflected,  to 
waste  further  time  in  idle  questionings.  It  was  to  Dona 
Isabel  herself  he  would  appeal,  and  warning  her  of  the 
danger  that  threatened  her  from  the  bandit  chieftain, 
induce  her  to  make  common  cause  with  him  against 
one  who  for  jears  must  liavc  been  their  common  enemy. 
Impossible  was  it  for  him  to  olve  the  mystery  of  the 
relations  in  which  the  several  actors  in  this  strange 
drama  in  which  he  was  so  unexpectedly  taking  part, 
stood  cither  to  one  another,  or  to  himself.  Then;  was 
but  one  fact  certain ;  by  that  alone  he  could  connect 
himself  with  beings  who  seemed  almost  of  another  world. 


CI/ATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


2D9 


—  the  one   undoubted    fact  of  the  discovery    of   Johu 
Ashley's  murderer. 

Ashley's  ready  apprehension  of  the  public  mind  had 
been  helped  by  what  ho  knew  to  be  the  actual  state  of 
affairs  in  the  ranks  to  which  Dona  Isabel  had  intrusted 
the  safety  of  her  person,  trusting  to  the  resources  which 
vero  at  her  command,  and  to  the  present  ascendency  of 
Gonzales,  to  bind  those  soldiers  of  fortune  to  the  cause 
she  had  espoused.  Perhaps  none  knew  better  than  she 
the  elements  that  an  alluring  chance  of  gain  Oi  a  transient 
enthusiasm  had  drawn  together ;  but  she  could  not  know 
liow  near  the  fire  lay  to  the  straw,  and  how  at  her  very 
side  were  those  who  in  the  name  of  patriotism  —  or,  like 
Chinita,  for  a  personal  sentiment  as  unexplainable  as  it  was 
imaginative  and  ardent  —  would  sacrifice  her  dearest  plans, 
and  think  it  a  grand  and  noble  deed  to  raise  the  ubiquitous 
and  dashing  Ramirez  upon  the  fall  of  the  slow  and  cautious 
Gonzales.  Ashley  had  imperfectly  comprehended  the 
scheme  or  its  bearings  ;  he  had  little  understood,  and  felt 
but  little  interest  in,  those  strange  complexities  and  per- 
sonalities of  Mexican  politics ;  but  now  a  sudden  party 
/^eal  and  horror  of  treason  seized  him.  Where  was  Pedro 
Gomez,  who,  having  played  traitor  once,  might  do  so  a 
hundred  times  more?  Where  was  Pep6?  Had  he  rejoined 
the  troops,  or  had  the  detour  to  the  graveyard  been  but  a 
clever  plan  for  eluding  them  ?  Were  these,  and  perhaps 
lluiz  too,  the  tools  of  Ramirez?  Yet  the  latter  had  ap- 
peared to  have  ridden  far ;  the  news  of  the  gathering  and 
departure  of  the  troops  had  appeared  to  have  astounded 
as  much  as  it  had  enraged  him.  Who  had  carried  the 
news  to  Rej'es? 

The  way  was  long  and  the  youth's  excitement  waning  ; 
his  recent  illness  and  still  aching  wound  began  to  declare 
their  effects.,  In  his  full  vigor  Ashley  Ward  would  have 
found  the  walk  under  the  glaring  sunshine  —  which,  though 
no  longer  vertical,  was  fierce  and  blinding  as  it  neared  the 
western  hilltops  —  more  than  he  would  have  chosen  for  an 
afternoon's  stroll.  Weak  as  he  was,  and  becoming  pain- 
fully conscious  that  he  had  fasted  since  morning,  he  was 
glad  to  lean  sometimes  against  the  high  adobe  wall  and 
measure  with  his  eye  the  slowly  decreasing  distance.  It 
was  a  landuiark  on  his  way  when  he  caught  sight  of  the 


M?^ 


■II 


Wi 


.* 


300 


en  ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


H 

i 

1 
} 

i 

J: 

(  ■ 

s 

i 

III 

'i 

W   1' 

I'fcf  M  ^ 

fit:  11 

i- 

ii>  ■ 

p\ 

'-» 

h  ■ 

' 

If'     '1/ 

III    "''I 

ijh^ 

1 ' 

m 

N  : 

It 

'  1    'I 

:ii|i 

:  ['i.\ 

1 
It 

'■'   . ! 

li;::-;: 

■III 

1 

t;  1  i 

m  • 

1  t ;' 

W\ 

1  ^^ .. 

nil 

i'^1 

iiji 

ilk'i  ; 

ill;    ' 

li'^ 

I'l,, 

■ 

j 

Kfei-i :  ■ 

mt 

ikL 

■  i 

heavy  gate  set  in  the  wall  of  the  reduction-works ;  he 
knew  then  just  how  much  farther  ho  must  ^o.  lie  had  no 
thouj^ht  of  actually  approaching  it,  but  he  noticed  with 
surprise  that  one  heavy  valve  was  slightly  ajar ;  and  with 
that  sudden  collapse  which  is  apt  to  assail  the  overtasked 
frame  at  the  unexpected  sight  of  an  oi)en  door,  however 
meagre  the  entertainment  it  may  suggest,  he  dragged 
himself  onward  with  the  natural  belief  that  he  should  lind 
within  some  servant  or  attache  of  the  great  house.  But 
when  he  reached  the  gate  and  looked  through  the  narrow 
aperture,  a  perfect  stillness  reigned  within.  No  horse 
stamped  in  the  courtyard ;  no  spurred  heel  rang  on  the 
pavement.  Great  cacti  were  pushing  their  gaunt  and 
prickly  branches  into  the  narrow  space,  as  if  stretching 
longing  arms  out  into  the  wide  world  from  which  they  had 
been  so  long  shut  in. 

With  some  elfort  Ashley  thrust  back  the  strong  and 
aggressive  barrier,  and  forced  his  wa}'  in.  Rank  grass, 
which  was  at  that  season  yellow  and  matted,  had  grown  up 
between  the  cobble-stones,  and  raised  them  in  little  heaps, 
over  which  the  lizards  ran.  One  —  fiery  red  —  stopped  as 
Ashley's  boot-heel  woke  the  echoes,  and  turned  a  wonder- 
ing ear,  then  glided  swiftly  on. 

Between  the  main  building  and  the  offices  there  was  a 
small  arched  lobby,  through  which  one  entered  the  great 
court,  upon  which  piles  of  broken  ores  and  the  long  dried 
masses  were  spread.  In  this  lobby  in  the  olden  time  the 
workmen  had  been  stopped  by  the  watchman  or  gate- 
keeper and  searched,  —  a  proceeding  to  which  they  daily 
submitted  with  indifference,  holding  their  arms  on  high 
while  the  practised  searcher  ran  his  hands  over  their  thin 
and  scanty  garments,  shook  out  the  coarse  serapo  and 
tattered  sombrero,  peered  among  the  rows  of  glistening 
teeth  and  under  the  tongue,  for  those  fragments  of  rich 
ore  or  amalgam  which  in  spite  of  all  precautions,  or  by  the 
connivance  of  the  searcher,  readied  the  outer  world,  net- 
ting in  the  aggregate  a  considerable  surplus  to  the  income 
of  the  laborers,  which  found  its  way  to  the  gambling  tables, 
or  was  spent  in  the  adornment  of  their  wives,  —  as  was 
l)rovod  by  the  great  decline  in  the  village  of  the  manufac- 
ture! of  filagree  ornaments  of  quaint  and  delicate  designs 
upon  the  closing  of  the  Garcia  mining- works. 


orks ;  ho 
Ic  had  no 
iced  with 
aud  with 
vcrtaskecl 
',  however 
!  draj^ged 
liould  lind 
use.  But 
10  narrow 
No  horso 
ig  on  the 
;aunt  and 
stretching 
I  they  had 

troug  and 
ink  grass, 
grown  up 
,tlo  heaps, 
(topped  as 
a  wondcr- 

lere  was  a 
tiie  great 
ong  dried 

time  the 

or  gate- 
ihey  daily 

on  high 
their  thin 
;rapo  and 
glistening 
ts  of  rich 

or  by  the 
rorld,  net- 
10  income 
ng  tables, 
—  as  was 
manufac- 
,e  designs 


CHAT  A   AND   CHINITA. 


301 


;^ 


Ashley,  with  a  feeling  of  curiosity  or  a  acnac  of  impend- 
ing action,  whicli  renewed  his  strength  as  a  tonic  might 
liave  done,  noticed  that  tiic  door  upon  the  side  of  tiie  lobl»\' 
that  opened  into  the  main  building  or  living  rooms  was 
also  ajar.  lie  glanced  in,  but  except  where  the  long  ray 
of  light  stole  in  through  the  aperture,  whicli  his  person 
l)artially  obscured,  all  was  so  dim  that  he  saw  only  imper- 
fectly a  few  scattered  articles  of  furniture,  —  anil  they  ap- 
peared to  bo  so  old  an<l  battered  that  they  wore  scarce 
worth  the  protection  which  the  great  padlock  and  rusty 
key,  hanging  from  a  staple  in  the  door,  indicated  had  boon 
alforded  them. 

With  a  feeling  of  awe,  Asliley  remembered  that  his 
cousin  must  have  lived,  and  perhaps  had  lain  dead,  in  that 
room.  With  ner\'ous  energy  ho  thrust  open  the  door,  and 
the  light  streamed  in.  He  started  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
the  lloor.  It  was  of  large  s(}uare  bricks,  thickly  spread 
with  the  dust  of  many  years,  but  impressed  with  foot- 
prints so  blurred  that,  dazzled  as  his  eyes  were,  ho 
could  not  tell  whether  they  were  those  of  man,  woman,  or 
child.  Tho3'  seemed  mysti.  ous,  ghostly.  There  was  no 
sound  of  human  presence.  lis  heart  beat  as  it  had  not 
done  in  all  the  excitement  of  that  day. 

"  I  am  here!  jl  have  been  waiting  as  you  bade  me," 
said  a  low,  frightened  voice.  The  words  came  so  unex- 
pectedly that  Ashley  scarce  understood  them.  He  stepped 
forward  and  glanced  around  searchingly.  In  the  farther 
corner  of  the  room  a  female  figure  was  in  the  act  of  ris- 
ing from  a  low  seat  on  which  it  had  crouched.  The  face 
was  half-averted,  the  dark  reboso  was  drawn  over  it  with 
the  left  ha)  id,  the  right  was  outstretched  as  if  in  supplicat- 
ing, almost  compulsory,  welcome. 

"  Good  God  !  "  — .  "  Dios  mio  I "  The  ejaculations 
were  simultaneous ;  the  girl  sank  to  the  lloor,  the  young 
man  involuntarily  drew  back. 

"  Seiiorita !  "  ho  exclaimed  in  a  voice  of  incredulity, 
' '  Senorita,  you  here  and  alone  ?  " 

'■'■Maria  Swictissimal  not  the  General  Ramirez!"  he 
heard  her  moan ;  yet  in  the  fright  and  confusion  there 
seemed  an  accent  of  relief.  **  Don  'Guardo !  Oh,  what  has 
brought  you  here  ?    Oh,  Seiior,  believe  me  —  " 

"  Do  not  distress  yourself  to  explain,  Senorita,"  inter- 


7 


't 


]\ 


U 


302 


L'HATA   AND   CIUNITA. 


B 


nii)tcd  Afihlcy,  coUll}-.  "  Rise,  1  beg,  nnd  I  will  go  nt 
once ;  but  that  you  inny  not  waste  more  time  in  wiiitinj^, 
1  will  tell  you  tlmt  the  man  you  speak  of  will  not  be  lien? 
to-(Uiy.  And,"  he  addiul,  with  an  intensity  that  startled 
even  himself,  "  if  there  is  justiee  in  heaven  or  upon  earth, 
never  aj^ain  shall  he  fullll  a  lover's  tryst  upon  a  spot  that 
by  any  other  than  a  demon  would  be  shunned  as  a  seeno 
of  gentle  dalliance,  if  not  aohorred  as  the  theatre  of  a 
crime  that  should  have  blaf.tcd  his  whole  life ! " 

The  girl  threw  back  her  head-covering  and  looked  tip  in 
uncom[)rehcnding  amaze.  As  her  gaze  caught  Ashley's 
both  colored,  both  averted  their  eyes  in  confusion.  Ash- 
ley recoiled  before  hers,  so  childlike,  so  honest. 

"  Chata  !  "  he  murmured  ;  "  Chata !  "  involuntarily  ex- 
tending toward  her  his  hand  in  deprecation,  in  entreaty, 
in  protection.  She  clasped  it  as  a  frightened  child  might, 
and  clinging  to  it  rose  to  her  feet,  swaying  a  little  and 
bending  low,  not  with  weakness,  but  with  shame. 

"  1  dared  not  disobey  him,"  she  murmured  at  last.  "  I 
dared  not  disobey." 

Ashley  dropped  her  hand,  —  almost  flung  it  from  him. 

The  girl's  face  crimsoned  ;  she  oi)ened  her  lips,  hesitated, 
then  clasping  her  hands  together,  cried,  ''  It  is  not  as  you 
think.  Oh,  rather  than  the  truth,  would  to  God  it  were ! 
I  am  not  the  child  of  Don  Rafael  and  DoHa  Rita !  Joso 
Ramirez  is  my  father  I  " 


lill! 


ii/ii 


will  po  at 
ill  wtiilin*^, 
not  be  lioro 
liiit  stuvtU'd 
u[)on  ciirlli, 
a  spot  that 
an  a  sceiio 

hoatrc  of  a 
. !»» 

ookod  up  in 
jilt  Ashley's 
sion.    Ash- 

luntarily  cx- 
in  entreaty, 
child  might, 
a  little  and 
me. 
at  last.     "  I 

it  from  him. 
)s,  hesitated, 
is  not  as  you 
Jod  it  were ! 
llita !     Joso 


XXXTI. 

*•  Josi  Ramirez  is  my  father !  " 

Had  her  words  been  a  thunderbolt  hurled  at  Ashley's 
feet,  they  could  not  have  astounded  him  more.  Tho 
daughter  of  Ramirez ! 

"  I  do  not  believe  it !  I  cannot  believe  it !  "  ho  exclaimed, 
with  no  thought  for  courteous  words.  "  Oh,  that  is  a  talc 
for  a  jealous  lover!  but  I  am  not  one.  Anything,  any- 
thing rather  than  that,  Sefiorita,  would  serve  to  explain 
tho  reason  of  your  presence  here  I  " 

*'  Why  have  I  spoken?  "  cried  the  young  girl  with  tears. 
"  Why  have  I  broken  my  promise,  and  only  to  be  disbe- 
lieved and  scorned?  O,  Seiior,  I  know  not  what  it  was  in 
3'ou  that  wrung  tho  words  from  nie  I  Did  he  not  command 
me  to  be  silent  till  he  gave  me  leave  to  speak  ?  He  is  my 
father,  yet  I  have  disobeyed  his  first  command.  In  tho 
letter  the  woman  brought  mo,  two  days  after  ho  left  E\ 
Toro,  and  in  which  ho  commanded  mo  to  meet  him  hero 
upon  this  day,  he  enjoined  secrecy  again  and  again  ;  and 
yet  I  forgot.     Miserable  girl  that  I  am !  " 

Ashley  had  lived  among  Mexicans  long  enough  to  learn 
something  of  their  ideas  of  filial  duty.  No  matter  how 
vile,  how  cruel,  how  debased  the  parent  may  be,  the  duty 
of  the  child  is  perfect  obedience  and  respect ;  the  petted 
infant  in  its  most  wilful  moments  ceases  its  passionate 
cries  to  kiss  the  father's  hand ;  the  young  man  deprives 
himself,  his  wife  and  children,  to  minister  to  his  aged 
parents;  he  who  cannot  or  will  not  work,  esteems  it  a 
pious  act  to  become  a  bandit  upon  the  highway  rather 
than  that  his  father  or  mother  shall  look  to  him  for  food 
or  even  for  luxuries  in  vain,  —  and  thus  he  comprehended 
the  remorse  of  this  conscience-stricken  child,  as  the  con- 
viction rushed  over  him  that  her  belief  might  indeed  bo 
true.  There  was  that  in  the  contour  of  her  face  which 
resembled  that  of  Ramirez  more  markedly  than  the  mere 


-ir 


304 


C II ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


II  >• 


if!'! 


:f 


•Ij'-^ 


fl' 


general  tjpc  that  in  hor  babyhood  had  given  her  that  ro- 
serablance  to  Rosario,  which  daily  grew  less,  and  indeed 
had  never  been  apparent  to  Ashley ;  though  in  her  face  he 
had  traced  resemblances  which  had  puzzled  and  bewildered 
him,  and  which  as  he  gazed  upon  her  now  became  still 
more  confusing. 

As  they  had  been  conversing,  Ashley  and  Chata  had 
gradually  drawn  near  to  the  door,  where  the  light  fell  full 
upon  the  agitated  girl.  Yes,  in  the  square  brows,  the 
heavily  fringed  lids  resting  upon  the  olive  cheeks,  — 
too  broad  beneath  the  eyes  for  beauty,  but  singularly 
delicate  about  the  mouth  and  chin,  —  so  far  she  resembled 
Ramirez ;  or  was  it  but  a  common  Aztec  type  ?  The 
mouth  itself,  sensitive,  refined,  —  which  should  have  parted 
but  for  laughter, — quivered  with  emotion,  and  the  large 
gray  eyes  she  lifted  to  Ashley's  were  singularly  grave 
and  earnest.  Where  had  he  seen  such  a  mouth,  such  eyes  ? 
The  contrasts  and  combinations  in  the  face  confused  him. 
Never  had  he  seen  its  counterpart,  3'et  fancy  might  under 
other  circumstances  have  led  him  upon  wild  theories. 
That  face  familiar,  yet  strange,  had  haunted  him  since 
he  had  first  seen  it.  Vainly  he  had  sought  in  his  mem- 
ory for  some  picture,  some  dream,  with  which  to  connect 
it.  Now,  though  he  had  seen  Ramirez,  though  Chata 
declared  herself  his  child,  the  same  feeling  of  uncertainty, 
of  tantalizing  familiarity  j^et  strangeness,  remained ;  the 
association  of  one  with  the  other  did  not  even  momen- 
tarily satisfy  him.  He  was  not  conscious  that  the  face 
appealed  to  his  imagination  rather  than  to  his  memor}*, 
or  that  it  had  always  awakened  an  interest  different  from 
that  with  which  he  had  looked  upon  others.  Certainly 
its  beauty  had  not  delighted  him ;  even  as  he  looked  at 
her  now,  the  witching,  glowing,  ever-changing  countenance 
of  Chinita  rose  before  him.  "Strange!  strange!"  he 
murmured.  "  What  can  be  the  mystery  that  from  the 
first  has  seemed  to  hover  around  you,  to  separate  you 
from  the  rest?" 

"Ah,  yes!"  she  said  humbly.  "I  have  realized  that 
myself.  Oh,  for  a  long,  long  time  I  have  felt  as  a  stranger 
among  them  all,  —  they  so  good,  so  true;  and  I  —  O 
God,  who  am  I?  Ah,  I  used  to  pity  Chinita,  but  they 
have  given  her  her  proper  place.     It  must  have  been  a 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


305 


worthy  one,  or  Dona  Isabel  would  not  have  made  her  her 
child.  But  when  they  separate  mc  from  Don  Rafael  what 
shall  I  be?" 

"Do  not  think  of  it.  He  —  this  Ramirez  —  is  gone, 
perhaps  never  to  return,"  said  Ashle}',  soothingly.  "  An(l 
if  not,  why  should  you  go  with  him  ?  Appeal  to  Don  Ra- 
fael, to  Doiia  Feliz." 

"  Dona  Rita  has  told  me  already  that  would  be  worse 
than  useless,"  replied  Chata.  "Don  Rafael  and  Dona 
Feliz  have  already  interfered  in  his  plans  for  me  ;  to  thwart 
him  further  would  be  to  make  him  their  deadly  enemy. 
Oh,  3'f)U  know  not,  Senor,  what  men  like  Don  Josd 
Ramiioz  will  do ;  and  yet  he  is  m}'  father ! " 

Her  voice  failed  in  an  agony  of  terror  and  shame.  Ash- 
ley's words  died  on  his  lips.  Here  was  a  grief  he  could 
hardly  understand,  against  which  he  could  offer  no  advice 
to  one  whose  education  and  mind  were  so  different  from 
his  own.  What  could  he  say  to  her  to  lessen  the  burden 
of  her  grief  ?  Surely  not,  as  he  would  have  done  to  Chi- 
nita,  that  she  should  strive  to  content  herself  in  a  destiny 
which  would  raise  hor  from  an  obscure  station  to  wealth, 
—  for  the  revolutionary  chieftain,  he  supposed,  had  never- 
failing  resources,  —  and  to  a  certain  dignity,  as  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  popular  hero.  He  could  have  imagined  Chinita  as 
glorying  in  such  a  position,  and  Rosario  as  reigning  with  a 
thousand  airs  and  graces  in  the  miniature  court  around 
her;  but  here  was  a  child,  a  very  child,  shrinking  from 
the  possible  contact  with  cruel  and  conscience-hardened 
adventurers,  and  stricken  to  the  heart  by  the  thought  of 
losing  the  heritage  of  an  honest  name. 

Presently  Chata  spoke  again,  as  though  to  speak  to  this 
stranger  in  whom  she  had  involuntarily  confided  was,  in 
spite  of  her  self-reproach,  to  lay  her  long  repression,  her 
doubts  and  fears,  before  a  shrine.  Almost  incoherently, 
in  the  rapid  utterance  of  overwhelming  excitemoit,  she 
poured  forth  the  story  of  the  interview  of  Ramirez  and 
Doiia  Rita  which  she  had  overheard  in  the  garden  at  El 
Toro.  In  her  earnestness  she  did  not  even  omit  the  pro- 
ject which  had  been  discussed  for  uniting  her  future  with 
that  of  Ruiz.  Ashley's  teeth  became  set  and  his  lips 
pressed  each  other  as  he  listened.  Here  indeed  was  con- 
firmation of  the  villain's  claim  ;  and  yet  —  and  yet  — 

:2() 


I 


•l.» 


il;:  I 


306 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA, 


M  i 


Hi' 


(t 


It  cannot  bo !  "  ho  interrupted.  "  I  cannot  believe  it. 
You  say  yourself,  your  very  being  recoils  from  him  —  ah, 
it  must  be  for  some  deep  cause  you  hate  him  so !  And  I 
too — I  hate  him.  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  have  a  long  arrcar 
of  wrong  to  settle,  and  —  " 

"You!"  she  ejaculated  wonderingly.  "What  wrong 
can  he  have  done  to  you?  Was  it  he  who  robbed  and 
wounded  you?" 

"  No,  no  I "  he  answered.  "  Those  were  but  the  chances 
of  travel.  There  is  something  far  greater  than  that ;  but 
while  you  believe  him  to  be  your  father,  I  will  not  talk  to 
you  of  avenging  myself.  I  should  be  a  brute  indeed  to 
add  a  feather's  weight  to  your  trouble.  Do  not  think  of 
that  again ;  but  believe  me,  there  is  some  mystery  neither 
of  us  understands.  The  truth  may  be  far  from  what  j'ou 
think  it.  I  will  demand  it  of  Don  Rafael,  of  Dona  Feliz 
—  they  must  know." 

She  was  looking  at  him  wonderingly,  almost  in  awe,  with 
those  large,  clear,  gray  eyes,  which  seemed  to  have  in  them 
the  reflection  of  a  purer,  calmer  sky  than  the  intense  and 
fiery  one  beneath  which  she  was  born.  As  he  looked  at 
her,  her  very  dress  seemed  a  disguise,  so  entirely  did  she 
seem  disassociated  from  the  scenes  in  which  he  found  her. 

"Ah,"  she  said  hopelessly,  clasping  her  hands,  "j'ou 
do  not  know  my  people  as  I  do.  I  have  not  asked  Don 
Rafael  or  Dona  Feliz  to  tell  me  the  secret  of  my  birth. 
They  have  concealed  it  for  some  weighty  reason,  and  until 
the  time  comes  when  they  judge  it  right  for  me  to  know, 
I  might  plead  with  them  in  vain.  15y  going  to  them  I 
should  but  lose  their  love,  and  become  the  object  of  their 
suspicion  and  doubt.  Oh,  I  could  not  endure  that,  I 
would  not  endure  it !  Dona  Rita  is  changed,  is  cold,  dis- 
trustful ;  and  why  should  I  by  useless  haste  bring  tlicir 
auger  upon  her  ?  No,  no,  Senor,  I  beg,  I  entreat  you,  say 
nothing  to  Don  Rafael.  Let  me  be  in  peace  as  long  as  I 
ma}'.  My  father  has  not  come  to-day ;  perhaps  he  has 
forgotten  me !  " 

"  You  reason  wildly,"  said  Ashley.  "  I  cannot  under- 
stand these  strange  duplicities  ;  yet  1  know  it  is  (juite  true 
I  should  gain  nothing  by  direct  questioning.  What  have 
I  ever  gained?  No,  it  is  to  Dona  Isabel  I  will  go,  and  to 
Ramirez   himself.      But  promise  me,  Chata,"  he  added 


C  11  ATA   AND    CHINITA. 


307 


<f. 


carnestl}',  "  promise  me,  by  nil  you  hold  most  s.acrod, 
never  to  leave  the  hacienda  to  meet  him  or  any  raessong<T 
of  his.  Promise  for  5'our  own  sake,  and  I  swear  J  will 
leave  no  measure  untried  to  free  you  from  this  strange 
bondage." 

lie  had  expressed  himself  with  difficulty  throughout, 
but  she  caught  his  meaning  eagerly.  "Oh,  if  I  dared  to 
promise!"  she  murmured.  "But  it  is  the  duty  of  the 
child  to  obey.  Besides,  he  would  tell  me  the  truth  ;  even 
this  very  day  I  thought  I  should  have  known  the  wretched 
story, — oh,  I  am  sure  it  is  a  wretched  one!  Well,  I 
have  a  respite,  —  a  little  respite.  Go,  Seiior ;  you  have 
been  kind,  —  be  kind  still  by  being  silent.  I  must  go ; 
the  sun  will  soon  set.  Ah,  unfortunate  that  I  am,  the 
men  will  be  coming  in  from  the  fields,  the  women  will  be 
at  their  doors,  —  how  shall  I  ever  return  without  being 
seen  ?  " 

Here  was  indeed  a  difficulty.  The  strictly  nurtured  girl 
had  never  in  her  life  been  outside  the  precincts  of  the  vil- 
lage alone ;  that  she  then  should  be,  and  with  a  young 
man,  would  occasion  endless  gossip.  The  two  involuntary 
culprits  looked  at  each  other  with  blank  faces,  — Ashley 
in  absolute  dismay,  for  he  had  heard  of  the  strict  require- 
ments of  Mexican  customs  and  etiquette,  and  knew  to 
what  cruel  innuendo  this  young  girl  had  exposed  herself. 
He  realized  then  for  the  first  time  how  great  her  courage 
had  been  in  venturing  forth  in  obedience  to  the  command 
of  Ramirez. 

"Chata,  Chata!  for  God's  sake,"  he  cried,  "go  at 
once !  I  will  remain.  Your  mad  freak  will  be  pardoned 
this  time,  when  they  see  you  are  alone." 

*'  Alone ! "  she  echoed,  a  crimson  flush  suffusing  her 
face  as  she  fully  realized  tlie  significance  of  his  words, 
and  saw  that  with  a  sudden  faintness  he  leaned 
the  wall,  spent  with  excitement  and  fiitigue 

"  Yes,  3'es,"  he  said  wcaril}-,  "  none  will  know  I  am 
here.  The  night  will  soon  pass ;  in  the  morning  I  will 
wander  in  to  one  of  the  huts.  They  will  fancy  I  was  lost 
on  the  mountain.     None  will  think  —  you  will  be  safe." 

"  I  am  safe,"  said  the  girl  with  sudden  resolution. 
"  Would  a  woman  of  your  own  country  leave  jou  to  hun- 
ger and  shiver  through  all  the  night  in  a  desolate  place 


against 


I.       t! 


308 


C II ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


!■: 


I J 


p-'i. 


like  tliis  ?  Ah,"  she  .added  with  a  long-drawn  breath  and 
a  tremor,  "  even  ghosts  arc  here." 

Ashlcv  smiled.  "I  do  not  fear  them,"  he  said.  "  I 
fear  but  for  you.  Go  !  go  at  once  !  And  jet  before  you 
go,  promise  !  —  promise  me  never  to  run  these  risks  again  ; 
never  in  an}'  place  to  meet  Ramirez  !  " 

In  his  earnestness  he  clasped  her  hand  and  gazed 
eagerly  into  her  limpid  eyes.  "  I  promise,  3'es,  I  prom- 
ise," she  said  hurriedly.  "  But  I  will  not  leave  you,  — 
weak,  fasting,  fainting !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  the  angelic  pity  in  her  face 
that  innocent  children  feel  before  they  have  learned  dis- 
trust. Ashley  read  the  perfect  trust,  the  perfect  guileless- 
ness,  of  her  tender  nature.  Rather,  he  thought,  would  he 
die  than  cast  a  cloud  upon  her  name  ;  and  what,  after  all, 
would  matter  the  privations  of  a  few  hours  ?  That  he  must 
not  be  seen  in  the  neighborhood  for  some  time  after  her 
uiiu'-ual  wanderings  was  a  foregone  conclusion.  How 
should  he  combat  her  resolution?  Trul}',  this  gentle  girl 
had  deep  springs  of  action  within  her.  For  duty  and 
right  she  could  be  a  very  heroine. 

As  these  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind,  a  sudden 
breeze  stole  through  the  open  gate  and  reached  the  lol)l)y ; 
there  was  a  faint  smell  of  cactus  flowers,  and  a  rustle  of 
the  dry  grass.  The  etfect  was  weird  and  ghostly.  A 
shadow  fell  between  them.  Had  the  sun  plunged  down 
beneath  the  western  hills  ?  They  glanced  up  and  started 
apart,  —  Dona  Feliz  was  before  them. 

The  ordinarily  grave  and  self-possessed  woman  was  for 
a  moment  the  most  agitated  of  the  three.  She  gasped  for 
breath.  She  had  been  walking  fast,  but  it  was  not  that 
alone  which  caused  the  eaith  apparently  to  reel  l)eneath 
her.  She  had  found  Chata,  whose  disappearance  from  the 
hiicienda  she  hud  discov<3red  at  the  moment  when  a  cry 
had  run  througli  the  house  that  the  horse  of  the  young 
American  had  returned  riderless ;  tiiat  the  youth  had 
doubtless  met  an  evil  fate.  She  had  found  them  both,  — 
and  together ! 

Slie  pressed  her  hands  over  her  eyes  as  though  to  shut 
out  some  horrid  vision ;  a  moan  broke  from  her  lips,  — 
tlien  she  caught  Chata  in  her  arms  and  glared  at  Ashley 
with   concentrated   anguish  and   fury.      Had  one   guilty 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


309 


thought  possessed  him,  or  had  he  meditated  a  doubtful 
act,  her  glance  would  have  covered  him  with  conrusion. 
As  it  was,  he  read  in  her  expressive  lace  and  gosture  a 
volume  of  deep  and  terrible  significance,  far  dilferent  from 
that  which  an  anxious  duenna  ordinarily  casts  upon  the 
imagined  trifler  with  the  affections  of  her  charge.  Noth- 
ing  of  that  assumption  of  virtuous  indignation,  jet  of 
flattered  satisfaction,  which  in  the  midst  of  remonstrance 
gives  indication  of  a  certain  sympatliy  and  inclination  to 
condone  the  offence  in  consideration  of  its  cause,  was  ap- 
parent. Doiia  Feliz  evidently  had  in  her  mind  no  lover's 
venial  follies.  This  meeting  was  to  her  a  tragedy,  —  the 
very  culmination  of  woes. 

Ashley  read  something  of  this  in  her  expression  .*nd  ges- 
ture, and  hastened  to  reassure  her,  by  giving  a  partial  ac- 
count of  the  reasons  of  his  return.  The  anxious  guardian 
of  innocence  would  perhaps  have  thought  his  turning  aside 
at  the  instance  of  Pepe  to  view  his  cousin's  grave,  his 
lingering  there,  the  departure  of  the  servant,  the  flight  of 
his  horse,  all  a  fabrication,  but  for  the  meeting  with  his 
cousin's  murderer,  which  the  young  man  recounted  with 
startling  brevity  and  force,  unconsciously  regaining  in 
the  recital  much  of  the  excitement  and  deep  indignation 
which  had  thrilled  him  at  the  time  of  the  encounter,  and 
which  had  gradually  subsided  amid  the  new  complications 
that  Chata's  words  had  opened  before  him. 

Involuntarily  Ashley  refrained  from  any  allusion  to  the 
fact  that  the  young  girl  had  ventured  forth  to  meet  this 
man  Ramirez  ;  and  acute  though  she  was,  it  did  not  sug- 
gest itself  to  Dona  Feliz,  who  seemed  lost  in  wonder  at 
the  almost  miraculous  chance  which  after  so  manj-  years 
had  brought  into  contact  the  secret  murderer  and  him 
whose  mission  it  seemed  to  avenge  the  innocent  blood. 
In  his  recital,  Ashle}'  had  not  mentioned  the  name  of  the 
self-confessed  assassin.  Dona  Feliz  did  not  ask  it,  — 
perhaps  she  inferred  that  it  remained  unknown  to  him,  — 
yet  Ashley  was  certain  his  identity  was  no  problem  to 
lior.  Had  she  guessed  the  secn^t  all  these  j'cars?  Had 
she  screened  the  guilty  and  fostered  the  innocent,  at  the 
same  time? 

Deep  as  was  her  interest  in  his  tale,  full  as  was  her 
acceptance  of  the  fact  that  the  meeting  of  Ashley  Ward 


''\-:i\ 


if!  '-^ 


ii 


|!'!  I! 


310 


CI/ATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


w 


and  Chata  was  purely  accidental,  Dofia  Fcliz  did  not 
exhibit  a  tithe  of  that  horror  and  dismay  which  was  de- 
picted upon  the  countenance  of  Chata,  who  listened 
breathlessly',  —  her  lips  apart,  her  hair  pushed  back,  her 
startled  eyes  opened  wide.  Ashlej'  would  gladly  have 
recalled  his  words  as  he  looked  at  her.  Every  particle 
of  color  had  faded  from  her  face. 

In  her  absovption  in  Ashley's  words,  Dona  Feliz  had 
ceased  to  regard  or  even  remember  the  young  girl,  who 
suddenl}'  recalled  herself  to  that  lady's  mind. 

"  Doiia  Feliz,"  she  murmured  in  an  agonized  and  plead- 
ing voice,  "  when  my  mother  forsook  me,  why  did  you  not 
suffer  me  to  die  ?  Oh  why,  why  did  I  live  to  hear  such 
horrors,  to  know  such  wretchedness  as  this  ?  " 

As  if  in  a  frenzy,  before  either  thought  to  stop  her,  or 
found  words  with  which  to  answer  or  recall  her,  she  ran 
out  from  the  lobby,  —  her  small  figure  passing  unimpeded 
through  the  cactus-guarded  gateway,  —  and  fled  across 
the  plain  toward  the  hacienda.  She  was  young  and 
strong, — excitement  lent  wings  to  her  feet.  Dona  Feliz 
and  Ashley  standing  together  in  the  gateway  looked  at 
each  other  in  amazement.  The  girl  continued  her  flight 
until  she  reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  There  a 
horseman  stopped  her.  Even  at  that  distance  they  recog- 
nized Don  Rafael,  and  saw  that  Chata  clung  to  him. 
passionately  when  he  dismounted. 

"She  is  safe!"  murmured  Doiia  Feliz.  "Rafael  will 
know  how  to  account  for  her  presence  with  him." 

"  Yes,"  thought  Ashley;  "these  Mexicans  fortunately 
know  how  to  coin  a  plausible  tale  as  well  for  a  good  cause 
as  for  a  bad  cne." 

They  saw  that  Don  Rafael,  placing  Chata  on  his  horse 
before  him,  had  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  hacienda, 
and  was  signalling  to  the  vaqueros  lingering  in  uncertainty 
at  the  gate. 

"  They  will  be  here  in  a  few  moments,  Seiior,"  said 
Dona  Feliz,  calmly.  "We  must  lock  the  gates  and  con- 
ceal the  keys.  You  must  be  found  outside  of,  not  within, 
these  walls." 

Ashley  assented,  and  within  a  few  moments,  and  in 
silence,  their  necessary  task  was  acconiplislied.  Doiia 
Feliz  then  led  the  way  toward  the  village,  walking  rapidly 


i 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


311 


z  did  not 
•U  was  dc- 

0  listened 

1  back,  lier 
;ladly  have 
jry  particle 

\  Feliz  had 
ig  girl,  wlio 

a  and  plcad- 
did  you  not 

0  hear  such 

stop  her,  or 
her,  she  ran 
g  unimpeded 
i  fled  across 
s  young   and 
Dona  Feliz 
ay  looked  at 
led  her  flight 
ge.    There  a 
k;  they  recog- 
;lung  to  him 

"  Rafael  will 

kim." 

ns  fortunately 
a  good  cause 

1  on  his  horse 
the  hacienda, 
in  uncertainty 

Seiior,"  said 
gates  and  con- 
of,  not  within, 

)ments,  and  in 

)lisUed.      Dona 

■walking  rapidly 


as  though  impelled  by  the  agitation  of  her  thoughts  or  a 
desire  to  escape  question.  Ashley  kept  pace  with  her 
with  some  effort,  though  the  chill  which  had  come  with 
the  grayness  of  evening  over  the  landscape  revived  and 
strengthened  him.  The  breeze  was  whistling  in  the  tall 
corn  in  the  fields  as  thej'  passed  them ;  the  cattle  were 
lowing  in  the  3^ards ;  the  distant  sound  of  horses'  feet  was 
beginning  to  be  heard ;  the  riders  like  gray  columns  were 
seen  approaching.  Ashley  laid  his  hand  upon  the  arm  of 
Dona  Feliz.  She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  His  face 
was  to  her  a  volume  of  reproach  and  question.  Her  voice 
broke  forth  in  a  great  sob. 

"Ashley  !  Ashley  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  do  you  not  com- 
prehend that  a  vow  stronger  than  death  controls  me? 
Ask  me  nothing,  but  follow  the  indications  which  the  good 
God  —  Fate  —  Providence  —  has  given  you.  The  time 
may  come  —  for  strange  things  are  happening  in  our  land 
—  when  I  may  be  free  once  ui  >re.  Now  I  may  only  watch 
and  wait  and  pray.  Ah !  what  hard  tasks  for  a  woman 
such  as  I  am !     But  I  have  vowed  ;  I  cannot  retract !  '* 

"  You  are  wrong ! "  cried  Ashley.  "  How  strange  that 
a  woman  of  so  much  intelligence,  of  a  conscience  so  pure, 
can  sufler  herself  to  be  led  bj'  the  spurious  customs  ancl 
traditions  that  pride  and  priestcraft  together  have  fastened 
upon  her  people !  But  your  very  reticence,  Doiia  Feliz, 
confirms  my  beliefs.  I  will  go  as  you  recommend,  as  my 
own  judgment  urged  me,  to  follow  the  clew  I  have  so  un- 
expectedly obtained.  Do  not  think  that  a  vulgar  and 
wolfish  desire  for  vengeance  alone  actuates  me ;  but  jus- 
tice must  bo  done.  Even  for  Chata's  sake,  this  man  must 
not  be  suffered  to  continue  his  course  unchecked."  He 
would  have  added  more,  but  Gabriel  and  Pancho,  the 
vaqueros,  came  galloping  up  with  mvas  and  cries  of 
welcome. 

"Praised  be  our  Holy  Mother,  and  all  the  saihts ! " 
exclaimed  one.  "  Don  Rafael  told  us  you  were  safe. 
Who  would  have  thought  the  Scfiora  and  the  nina  Chatita 
would  have  found  you  no  farther  away  than  deaf  and  blind 
Refugio's?  Ay,  Dona  Feliz,  without  seeking,  finds  more 
than  will  a  dozen  unlucky  ones,  though  they  have  specta- 
cles and  lanterns  to  aid  them.  In  the  name  of  reason, 
Don  'Guurdo,  how  happened  youi'  nag  to  throw  you  and 


'Dii,'-' 

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312 


CI/ATA   AND   CH/NITA. 


gallop  back  tlms  ?  Ho  is  manageable  enough  with  any  of 
us  —  "  and  there  was  a  suspicion  of  irony  in  the  solicitude 
of  the  horseman,  which  did  not  escape  Ashley  as  he 
answered,  — 

*'  To-morrow  you  shall  have  the  whole  tale.  Tlicse 
roads  of  j'ours  are  no  place  for  a  man  to  linger  on  alone, 
lint  for  the  present,  remember  I  have  a  wound  not  too 
well  healed,  and  am  more  anxious  for  supper  than  for  re- 
counting adventures." 

"•  Ah !  ah !  he  was  stopped  on  the  road  by  banditti,  — 
and  has  escaped."  The  vaqueros  regarded  Ashley  with 
vastly  increased  respect.  Their  numbers  were  augmented 
as  they  neared  the  hacienda ;  and  when  the  party  reached 
the  gates,  wild  rumors  of  Ashley's  prowess  were  already 
Hying  from  moutli  to  moutli. 

Ashley  did  not  present  an  imposing  figure  as  he  passed 
in  between  the  crowds  of  admiring  women  ;  but  he  served 
to  turn  their  thoughts  from  the  unprecedented  appearance 
of  Chata,  which  was  but  unsatisfactorily  explained  by  Don 
Rafael's  ready  fiction  that  she  and  Dona  Feliz  had  been 
piously  visiiing  at  the  hut  of  old  Refugio,  and  that  upon 
the  arrival  of  Asliley  there,  the  j'oung  girl  had  hastened 
to  meet  her  father,  and  give  him  news  of  the  American's 
safety. 

"  Dona  Feliz  is  even  too  careful  of  her  grandchildren," 
said  some  of  the  more  liberal.  '*  What  harm  would  have 
come  to  the  maiden  from  a  walk  of  a  few  minutes,  or  a  few 
words  spoken,  with  an  honorable  young  man  such  as  he 
seems  to  be  ?  Now,  if  it  were  Don  Alonzo,  or  that  gay 
young  Captain  Ruiz,  for  example !  " 

Rosario,  who  had  been  leaning  over  the  balcony  as  Ash- 
Jey  arrived,  heard  something  of  what  was  said,  and  smiled. 
She  was  not  at  all  ready  to  believe  that  Chata's  walk  had 
extended  only  as  far  as  the  hut  of  blind  Refugio ;  and  that 
it  had  not  been  made  in  company  with  Dona  Feliz  she  was 
quite  certain.  But  she  had  no  time  just  then  to  interest 
herself  in  Chata's  affairs,  —  Iier  own  were  far  too  engross- 
ing ;  for  the  new  clerk  whom  Carmen,  at  Dona  Isabel's 
request,  had  sent  from  Guanapila,  evidently  was  much 
more  intent  upon  studying  the  charms  of  Rosario  than  his 
new  duties,  and  in  seeking  favor  in  her  eyes  than  in  those 
of  the  administrudor  himself.     The  new  clerk  was  Don 


■1.  ■ 
II  '1 


CHATA   AND   ClfrNITA. 


313 


with  any  of 
c  solicitude 
hlcy  as  he 


tie.  These 
jr  on  alone, 
ind  not  too 
than  for  rc- 

banditti,  — 
Ashley  with 
J  augmented 
arty  reached 
vere  ahcady 

as  he  passed 
lut  he  served 
I  appearance 
lined  by  Don 
,liz  had  been 
id  that  upon 
bad  liastened 
D  American's 

andchildren," 
n  would  have 
utes,  or  a  few 
n  such  as  he 
,,  or  that  gay 

Icony  as  Ash- 
a,  and  smiled. 
la's  walk  had 
I  trio  ;  and  that 
Feliz  she  was 
icn  to  interest 
r  too  engross- 
Doiia  Isabel's 
tly  was  much 
)sario  than  his 
than  in  those 
lurk  was  Don 


Alonzo ,  and  Don  Alonzo  was  a  handsome  fellow,  with  the 
face  of  an  angel,  Doiia  Rita  said,  —  a  contrast  indeed  to 
that  little  brown  monkey  Captain  Uuiz ;  and  Kosario 
smiled  coyly,  and  did  not  gainsay  her. 

The  next  morning  at  an  unusually  early  hour  this  same 
Don  Alonzo  tapped  on  Ashley's  door.  "  Pardon,  Senor," 
he  said,  "  but  the  horses  and  servants  are  ready,  and  I 
have  orders  myself  to  accompany  j'ou  beyond  the  bound- 
aries of  Tres  Hcrmanos." 

The  announcement  was  not  a  surprise.  Ashley  had 
arranged  his  departure  with  Don  Rafael  upon  the  preced- 
ing evening.  He  dressed  hastily,  and  while  partaking  of 
his  cup  of  chocolate,  glanced  often  around  him,  in  expec- 
tation of  the  appearance  of  Don  Rafael  or  his  mother ;  but 
in  vain.  The  American  could  no  longer  hope  to  learn  at 
a  parting  moment  what  each  had  chosen  to  withhold.  Ir- 
rationally, and  against  all  likelihood,  he  ventured  to  hope 
that  Chata  might  steal  forth  for  a  farewell  word.  He 
laughed  at  himself  afterward  for  the  thought,  saying  that 
the  air  of  intrigue  had  begun  to  affect  his  own  brain. 

Sooner  than  was  usual,  even  in  that  land  of  early 
movement,  Don  Alonzo  warned  him  it  was  growing  late. 
It  was  not  too  late  or  early  for  Rosario  to  wave  her  little 
brown  hand  from  her  mother's  window  in  token  of  adieu. 
Ashley  did  not  see  it,  but  he  for  whom  it  was  intended 
did.  So  with  more  foreboding  and  reluctance  than  he 
could  have  imagined  possible  but  a  few  hours  before, 
Ashley  once  more  rode  forth  from  Tres  Hermanos,  —  this 
time  with  a  definite  object,  from  which  he  felt  there  could 
be  no  turning  back,  no  possible  end  but  his  own  death  or 
the  downfall  of  a  man  to  whom  but  yesterday  he  had  been 
utterly  indifferent,  but  who  to-day  was  inseparable  from 
all  his  thoughts,  his  passions,  his  purposes,  —  Ramirez 
the  revolucionario,  the  declared  murderer  of  John  Ashley, 
the  declared  father  of  the  young  girl  who  seemed  the 
very  incarnation  of  honor  and  sensibility,  of  tenderness 
and  purity. 


I 


I 


''■.J 


.  w 


1 

1 

l'\ 

H^ 

ffiflH| 

i^ipnri 

m 

■ 

^ 

«^' 


XXXIII. 


llf-i,'  . 


If*  ■  ■ 

1 

k'^'i  . 

i  p- 

1^ 

^^ 

The  dcpartiiro  of  Ashley  Ward  from  Trcs  Ilormanos  was 
not  so  entirely  disregarded  as  he  had  sup[)osed.  It  was  not 
Kosario  only,who  left  her  chamber  at  daybreak.  Scarcely 
had  she  disappeared  in  the  gloom  of  Doiia  Isabel's  apart- 
ments on  her  way  to  the  favorite  balcony,  when  her  father 
stepped  out  upon  the  corridor,  starting  as  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Dona  Feliz,  who,  seemingly  with  the  spirit  of  unrest  that 
pervaded  the  household,  at  the  same  moment  emerged  from 
her  room.  With  a  muttered  salutation  each  abandoned 
the  original  intention  of  exchanging  a  farewell  word  with 
the  dej)arting  guest ;  and  arresting  their  steps  at  the 
balustrade,  they  leaned  over  and  listened  intently  to  the 
sounds  of  the  early  exit.  The  light  was  still  so  uncertain 
that  though  Don  Rafael  noticed,  he  did  not  wonder  at,  the 
gray  tinge  upon  his  mother's  face  ;  it  seemed  only  in  har- 
mony with  tlie  prevailing  darkness. 

The  rains  of  the  past  season  had  been  insufficient,  and 
a  murky  though  almost  inpalpable  mist,  felt  rather  than 
seen,  brooded  over  the  silent  landscape.  It  was  scarcely 
oppressive  enough  to  affect  the  young  men  who  rode  forth 
stirring  the  sluggish  air,  nor  the  eager  horses  lifting  their 
heads  to  fill  their  lungs  with  the  breath  of  morning,  and 
expelling  it  again  with  a  force  that  agitated  the  stillness 
with  a  sound  like  a  blow  upon  water ;  yet  it  weighed  in- 
expressibly both  upon  the  body  and  mind  of  Don  Rafael. 
As  he  had  come  to  the  corridor  with  a  certainly  in  his 
mind  that  he  should  meet  his  mother,  he  had  purposed  to 
question  her  as  to  the  actual  occurrences  of  the  day  before, 
for  the  connection  of  Chata  with  the  return  of  Ashley  Ward 
remained  entirely  unexplained.  That  his  mother  Was 
satisfied  that  it  was  not  a  mere  vulgar  rendezvous  into 
which  she  had  been  tempted,  he  was  assured  by  her  man- 
ner toward  both  the  young  man  and  the  recreant  girl ; 
indeed,  it   appeared  that   she   had   scarcely   noticed   an 


en  ATA   AND   CniNITA. 


315 


incident  whicli  in  that  place,  and  at  the  at^c  of  Cliutu, 
was  sullicient  to  array  against  a  young  girl  tlic  BUHpiciouH 
of  the  most  trusting  and  generous  of  matrons.  Yet  Don 
Kafael  could  imagine  no  possible  inducement  but  tliu 
voice  of  a  lover  that  could  have  called  her  forth  aloiuj 
from  the  great  house,  —  for  that  Chata  had  gone  alone,  hu 
knew  as  well  as  did  his  keen-eyed  daughter  llosario. 

The  last  gray  figure  had  long  since  di8ap[)eared  from 
the  outer  court,  into  which  they  looked  as  into  a  distant 
and  narrow  vista ;  the  clank  of  the  horses'  hoofs  upon  tho 
paving  had  changed  to  the  thud  upon  the  roadway,  then 
ceased  altogether  to  be  luard ;  and  Don  Rafael  turning 
his  eyes  upon  his  mother's  face,  had  opened  his  lips  to 
question  her,  —  when  with  a  thrill  of  surprise,  which  be- 
came terror  even  before  the  momentary  utterance  was 
repeated,  he  heard  her  laugh  that  strange,  unmirthful, 
hollow  laugh  that  indicates  a  mind  diseased,  while  she 
said  whispcringly,  — 

*'  He  is  gone.  Yes !  yes !  I  unbarred  the  door,  and 
Pedro  picked  the  lock  so  cleverly  and  noiselessly  that  the 
very  watchman  asleep  across  the  threshold  did  not  hear 
him.  Ah,  I  knew  Gregorio  would  be  quiet  enough  by 
daylight ;  but  Leon  was  awake,  wide  awake.  For  all  your 
tears,  Isabel,  he  would  not  have  gone  but  for  me ;  he 
swore  he  would  kill  Don  Gregorio  for  the  blow  he  gave 
him.  Why  did  j'ou  say  3*ou  loved  at  last  as  a  woman 
should  the  husband  who  was  your  brother's  foe  to  death, 
and  that  j'ou  sent  him  freedom  that  he  might  seek  a  death 
more  worthy  of  his  vi^lany  than  by  the  sword  of  an  out- 
raged father,  or  the  executioner's  bullet?  They  were 
bitter  words,  and  you  knew  they  were  false,  —  for  even 
with  your  child  lying  dead  through  his  persecution,  you 
loved  him  still.  And  when  he  would  not  stir  because 
of  your  taunts,  but  swore  he  would  meet  his  fate  and 
shame  the  callous  heart  whose  love  had  been  as  weak 
as  her  sacrifice  was  forced  and  incomplete,  what  was 
there  for  you  to  do  but  to  throw  yourself  on  your  knees 
before  him,  and  entreat  him  for  his  mother's  sake  to 
be  gone?  Even  then  he  would  have  stayed  but  for 
me,  '  What ! '  I  cried,  '  to  shame  your  sister,  you  will 
give  another  victory  to  the  husband  of  Dolores?' 

"  Ah,  it  is  not  tears  that  conquer  such  a  man  as  Leon ! 


■■£)  y;' 


316 


CI/Al'A    AND   ClllNITA. 


%i'>\ 


In  A  moment  he  had  sprung  to  his  feet ;  he  had  thrust 
Isabel  aside,  and  me  too,  —  yes,  that  was  notliing.  I'edro 
held  his  horse,  but  Leon  glared  at  him  as  he  sprang  into 
the  saddle.  '  1  Jut  for  you,  I  should  have  given  the  last  blow 
at  midnight,'  he  cried.  '  It  shall  be  thine  some  day,  when 
tiiy  master's  account  has  been  closed ! '  and  with  that  he 
was  gone.  Yes,  he  is  gone.  Not  a  sound  of  the  horse  as 
he  gallops !  Gone,  and  none  too  soon !  the  morning  is 
come,"  — and  she  uttered  again  that  sound  called  a  laugh. 

"  Mother,  what  hast  thou?"  cried  Don  Rafael,  clasping 
her  arm,  and  noticing  for  the  first  time  tlie  deep  hollows 
beneath  her  brilliant  e3'e8,  and  the  wide  circles  that  made 
more  appalling  their  unnatural  glare.  "  Mother,  thou  art 
dreaming !  thy  hand  burns,  and  thy  temples.  Maria 
Sanctissima !  dost  thou  not  know  me?  " 

"  Know  thee?  —  yes.  Why,  thou  art  Rafael,"  she  an- 
swered, letting  her  eyes  drop  for  a  moment  on  his  scared 
and  anxious  face.  "Why  should  I  not  know  thee? 
Had  ever  woman  a  better  son  ?  Yes,  yes,  he  is  safe  ;  let 
Don  Gregorio  wake  when  he  will,  Leon  is  away.  Ah,  at 
the  last  he  was  not  so  cruel,  — eh,  Isabel?  Why  should 
you  moan  and  wring  your  hands  because  he  vowed  never 
again  but  ])y  his  death  should  his  name  shame  3'ou?  Ah  I 
Ah !  Ah !  well,  they  say  he  died,  shot  and  hanged  to  a 
tree  as  a  miscreant  should  be.  Do  you  believe  it,  Isabel? 
Yet  why  not?  God  of  my  soul!  is  it  only  the  son  of  Pancho 
Valle  that  can  be  pitiless?  Only  —  "  so  she  muttered  on, 
in  a  low  monotonous  voice,  pacing  the  corridor  with  an 
uncertain  step,  varying  from  the  halting  motion  of  one 
about  to  fall,  to  the  impetuous  haste  with  which  she 
fancied  herself  urging  again  the  unwilling  flight  of  the 
sullen  and  revengeful  youth,  whom  she  too,  with  the 
perversity  of  woman's  heart,  had  loved  as  sincerely  as 
she  had  condemned. 

Don  Rafael  followed  her  in  a  perturbation  of  surprise  and 
terror,  which  drove  from  his  mind  all  other  thoughts  save 
those  that  his  remembrance  of  former  plague-stricken  sea- 
sons forced  upon  his  mind.  Fovor  was  in  the  air,  and  his 
mother  was  the  first  victim  !  The  rainj'  season,  which  in 
most  years  cleared  the  black  watercourses  and  the  village 
itself  of  the  accumulations  of  nine  dr}'  and  almost  torrid 
mouths,  had  failed  to  do  its  accustomed  work.     No  rush- 


C II ATA   AND   CI/IX/TA. 


317 


ing  torrents  had  clonrpd  tlio  wntcrcoursos  ;  but  instead  of 
proviiif^  the  friend  of  hiinmnity  water  had  beeonje  its 
enemy,  by  niinglin<;  scantily  with  the  foul  elements  that 
had  gathered  during  the  long  period  of  drouth,  and  wiiieh 
(exhaled  the  subtle  miasma  which  even  tlie  pure  air  of 
tliat  elevated  region  was  powerless  to  render  iinioxiou.s. 
Don  Uafael  absolutely  wrung  his  hands  before  the  evil 
he  foresaw,  and  which  neither  experience  nor  intelligenco 
had  led  hira  to  combat  with  any  sanitary  precautions. 
That  the  fever  should  from  time  to  time  decimate  the 
hacienda  appeared  to  his  mind  one  of  tho  inevitable 
calamities  of  life,  no  more  to  be  avoided  than  the  spring 
floods  or  the  blasting  lightning  or  the  outburst  of  vol- 
canic fires.  But  had  all  these  forces  combined  assailed 
him  at  once,  his  consternation  could  not  have  been 
greater  than  to  witness  in  his  mother  the  deliriuni  which 
testified  to  the  dreaded  typhoid.  As  has  been  iMimated, 
his  love  for  his  mother  was  of  no  common  order ;  with- 
out being  weak  in  judgment  or  irresolute  i:\  character, 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  share  with  her  his  every 
thought,  and  their  sentiments  and  aims  were  ever  in 
such  perfect  accord  that  a  dissentient  word  had  never 
arisen  between  them. 

As  Don  Rafael  followed  his  mother  in  her  erratic  and 
excited  movements,  scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  did,  or 
of  anything  except  that  with  each  moment  her  talk  grew 
more  distracted,  while  her  thoughts  were  persistently 
fixed  upon  the  events  and  woes  and  passions  of  by-gono 
years,  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  was  timidly 
pushed  open,  and  Chata's  face  peeped  anxiously  out. 
Had  Don  Rafael's  thoughts  been  free,  he  would  have 
wondered  that  tho  girl  was  fully  dressed  at  such  an 
early  hour ;  but  he  did  not  even  heed  the  explanation 
she  hurriedly  gave  as  she  advanced  to  meet  him. 

"  I  would  not  have  left  my  grandmother  alone,  but  she 
forbade  me  to  come,"  she  said.  "  Oh,  I  could  not  sleei). 
1  thought  the  morning  would  never  dawn.  I  went  to  her 
with  the  first  light,  but  she  would  not  listen  to  rac.  She 
bade  me  leave  her ;  and  I  thought  it  was  because  she 
was  angry,  but  it  was  this  !  Oh,  Father,  is  it  a  sickness? 
See,  she  does  not  know  me  ?  Mama  grande,  it  is  I ;  it  is 
your  Chata." 


"  utt  '  ■  ^  r    iP 


liii 


318 


CHATA    AND   CHINITA. 


rjii; 


liiji 


.«:,., 


ii  i; 


"Be  silent!"  exclaimed  Don  Rafael,  the  more  sharply 
because  of  his  extreme  alarm.  "Fly,  Chata!  fly  to  thy 
mother,  thy  sister !  Call  old  Selsa,  any  one  who  has  sense 
and  knows  what  remedies  to  bring.  Why  do  you  stare  ? 
Do  you  think  my  mother  is  mad  ?  It  is  the  fever.  It  is 
not  for  nothing  that  the  rains  have  been  delayed  ^o  long. 
Pitying  Saints,  as  I  rode  by  the  ditches  last  week  they  were 
black  as  pitch  and  foul  as  a  vulture's  quarry.  Run !  I  will 
lead  her  to  her  room.  A}^  ay,  Mother,  thou  art  strong, 
and  not  so  old  yet,"  —  and  with  the  tenderness  of  a  child 
and  the  devotion  of  a  lover  the  son  g'  ided  the  steps  of  the 
delirious  yet  gentle  woman,  who,  half-conscious  of  her 
state,  half-resentful  of  ciic,  suffered  herself  to  be  led  into 
the  chamber  she  had  quitted  in  apparent  health  but  a 
brief  quarter  of  an  hour  before. 

Apparent  health  only,  for  she  had  passed  an  utterly 
sleepless  night,  strangely  excited  by  the  events  of  the  day, 
yet  unable  to  fix  her  mind  upon  them.  Chata,  upon  her 
return  to  the  hacienda,  had  sought  her  own  chamber ;  and 
in  the  press  of  other  thoughts  Dona  Feliz  had  failed  to 
follow  and  to  question  her  upon  the  strange  escapade, 
which  the  whole  character  and  bearing  of  the  young  girl 
combined  to  render  utterly  inexplicable,  —  for  she  had 
no  data  by  which  to  connect  it  with  the  appearance  of 
Ramirez  at  the  cemetery,  and  she  absolved  Ashley  Ward 
from  any  prc-arrangemcnt  with  the  young  girl  as  com- 
pletely as  though  they  had  been  found  a  thousand  miles 
asunder.  As  was  natural,  suspicions  of  some  precocious 
love,  of  which  some  one  of  the  many  volatile  and  dashing 
youth  that  had  lately  gathered  at  the  hacienda  was 
the  object,  haunted  the  mind  of  Dofia  Feliz ;  but  she 
rejected  them  with  disdain,  promising  herself  upon  the 
early  morning  to  demand  the  truth,  not  doubting  she 
should  learn  it.  Even  while  awake  to  the  importance  of 
the  incident,  and  inwardl3'  debating  it,  she  was  conscious 
that  the  remembrance  of  it,  as  well  as  of  Ashley  and  his 
strange  participation  iu  the  life-drama  in  which  slie  had 
enacted  so  forced  and  painful  a  part,  constantly  strove  to 
elude  her,  and  was  rLcalled  with  an  effort  that  with  every 
hour  grew  greater  and  less  effective ;  while  all  the  events 
and  actors  of  long  ago  passed  in  endless  review  before  her, 
—  Dona  Isabel  in  her  matronly  girlhood,   soothing  and 


p*?r.„ 


CIIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


319 


nore  sharply 
i!  fly  to  thy 
ho  has  sense 
0  you  stare? 

fever.  It  is 
lycd  -\o  long. 
;ek  they  were 

Run !  I  will 
X  art  strong, 
38S  of  a  child 
e  steps  of  the 
jcious  of  her 
to  be  led  into 
health  but  a 

3d  an  utterly 
ts  of  the  day, 
ata,  upon  her 
ihambcr;  and 
had  failed  to 
ige  escapade, 
he  young  girl 
-for  she  had 
appearance  of 
Ashley  Ward 

girl  as  cora- 
lousand  miles 
me  precocious 

and  dashing 
hacienda  was 
'eliz;  but  she 
•self  upon  the 

doubting  she 

importance  of 
was  conscious 
S^shlcy  and  his 
which  she  had 
antly  strove  to 
,hat  with  every 
1  all  the  events 
lew  before  her, 
soothing  and 


bribing  with  tender  words  and  lavish  gifts  her  wilful  half- 
brother;  Don  Gregorio;  the  d\'ing  Norberto;  the  scowl- 
ing and  furious  abductor ;  then  Ilerlinda  and  John  Ashley. 
The  pale  procession,  specti'al  yet  real,  voiceless  yet  each 
repeating  with  irresistible  eloquence  the  tale  of  his  love, 
his  guilt  or  anguish,  passed  before  her,  thrusting  aside,  as 
often  as  they  re-appeared,  the  forms  of  those  who  at  this 
new  and  critical  point  had  appeared  upon  the  scene. 

As  the  night  passed,  she  was  perfectly  aware  of  this 
tantalizing  inability  to  command  her  thoughts ;  and  as 
again  and  again  she  set  herself  to  follow  the  probable 
course  and  effect  of  Ashley  Ward's  intervention  in  the 
fate  of  the  man  who  to  her  se«  "^d  gifted  with  demoniacal 
powers  for  evil,  and  an  absolute  invulnerability  to  human 
vengeance,  or  as  she  began  in  mind  to  question  Chata,  the 
persons  both  of  the  young  man  and  the  girl  seemed  to  fade 
from  before  her,  and  the  voices  that  should  have  replied, 
were  those  which  had  been  familiar  years  before,  —  often- 
cst  that  of  Herlinda  in  wild  repetition  of  her  unhappy  love, 
and  agonized  entreaties  for  the  babe  she  was  but  to  em- 
brace and  forever  relinquish.  Through  it  all  Doiia  Feliz 
had  retained  the  thought  of  Ashley's  departure  ;  and  with 
some  vague  thought  that  the  sight  of  him  would  calm  her 
fevered  brain,  she  instinctively  strove  to  accomplish  the 
resolve  with  which  she  had  begun  the  night.  And  thus 
her  last  conscious  act  before  the  positive  delirium  of  the 
fever  seized  her,  had  been  to  look,  with  the  half-fearful 
gaze  of  one  who  invokes  yet  dreads  the  vengeance  of 
heaven,  upon  him  who  seemed  to  her  morbid  and  supersti- 
tious mind  fraught  with  a  mission  to  avenge  and  right 
the  innocent,  —  both  the  living  and  the  dead. 

Don  Rafael,  in  consternation,  had  recognized  at  once  the 
serious  character  of  his  mother's  illness.  As  he  called 
aloud  for  help>  and  Chata  with  white  and  affrighted  face 
hastened  to  obey  his  command,  Rosario,  followed  by  her 
mother  in  some  confusion,  appeared  from  the  farther  cor- 
ridor. Too  much  bewildered  and  alarmed  to  wonder  at 
seeing  his  daughter  also  dressed  and  abroad  at  such  an 
hour,  her  father  exclaimed  in  impatience  at  the  voluble 
reproaches  of  Dona  Rita,  who,  pushing  Rosario  from  the 
side  of  Dona  Feliz,  bade  her  cease  from  such  tempting 
of  Providence,  affirming  that  for  her  own  sins  she  (Dona 


m 


:i'i 


I 


■il' 


320 


CHAT  A   AND   CHINITA. 


Rita)  must  have  been  burdened  with  the  plague  of  so 
reckless  a  child,  and  praying  her  in  the  name  of  the  Holy 
Babe  to  fly  from  infection  lest  she  should  break  her 
mother's  heart  by  her  premature  decease.  To  all  of  which 
Rosario  submitted  with  a  sobbing  declaration  that  she 
was  already  faint  and  ill,  whereupon  Dona  Rita  hastily 
retreated  to  her  own  room,  dragging  Rosario  with  her; 
and  in  spite  of  his  hurriedly  formed  resolution  to  the 
contrary,  Don  Rafael  was  forced  to  confide  his  mother 
to  the  care  of  Chata  and  of  the  servants,  who,  subser- 
vient to  the  slightest  wish  even  of  this  inexperienced  girl, 
were  however  absolutely  useless  without  the  guiding 
presence  of  a  superior. 


^i!  *;■ 


If        I;    : 


\\ 


*'V^ 


'l-,i)i! 


If 


laguc  of  so 
of  the  Holy 
I  break  her 
,  all  of  which 
on   that  she 

Rita  hastily 
io  with  her; 
ation  to  the 
e  his  mother 
who,  subser- 
lericnced  girl, 

the   guiding 


XXXIV. 

The  hilltops  were  flooded  with  sunshine  when  the  party 
from  Tres  Hermanos  reached  them ;  the  atmosphere  was 
so  clear,  that  looking  back  over  the  broad  valley,  spread 
with  fields  of  maize  and  beans,  and  the  half-tropical  luxu- 
riance of  fruit  and  flower,  Ashley  could  distinguish  every 
break  and  fret  on  the  massive  front  of  the  great  house,  and 
recognized  with  a  feeling  almost  of  awe  the  tall,  slender 
figure  standing  upon  the  centre  balcony.  She  waved  her 
hand  in  token  of  God-speed.  Strange,  inscrutable  woman  ! 
She  had  bidden  him  go  forth  as  the  minister  of  fate,  she 
had  furnished  him  with  servants,  horses,  money,  arms,  — 
yet  had  spoken  no  word.  Ashlc}'  felt  as  though  ''e  were 
an  enchanted  knight  in  an  enchanted  land ! 

The  traveller  bade  adieu  to  Don  Alonzo  in  sight  of  his 
cousin's  grave ;  then,  followed  by  his  two  servants,  rode 
rapidly  onward  in  the  direction  taken  the  da}'  before  by  the 
troops  and  Dona  Isabel,  by  Ramirez  and  Reyes,  —  indiflTer- 
ent  which  he  first  should  encounter,  confident  that  sooner 
or  later  the  full  significance  of  the  impulse  that  had  led 
him  upon  his  Quixotic  journey  to  Mexico  would  be  revealed. 
The  little  cloud  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand  had  grown 
so  great  as  to  overshadow  his  earth  and  heavens.  He  rode 
on  as  in  a  dream.  The  day  passed,  the  night  came,  and  the 
party  was  still  alone.  The  guide  had  mistaken  the  way. 
That  night  they  encamped  but  a  league  from  the  village  of 
Las  Passas.  Ashley  slept  neither  better  nor  worse  for 
that ;  there  was  no  voice  to  tell  him  it  could  be  more  to 
him  or  his  than  a  score  of  other  villages  which  lay  in  the 
recesses  of  these  wild  mountains.  The  next  day  he  left  it 
to  the  right,  and  set  his  face  toward  El  Toro. 

Meanwhile  the  march  of  the  troops  had  been  as  rapid  as 
the  nature  of  the  country,  broken  by  deep  ravines  and  at 
first  offering  a  tortuous  ascent  to  the  table-lands,  would 
allow.     To  Chinita,  though  the  slow  movement  of  the  car- 

21 


III 

i  W 

t  m 


m. 


322 


CITATA   AND   CHINITA. 


\h  i(t 


riagc  WHS  irksome  and  irritating,  and  the  clouds  of  dust 
tliat  rose  from  beneath  the  tread  of  the  horses  obscured 
the  sights  which  in  their  novelty  delighted  and  filled  her 
with  exultation  of  a  new  and  expanding  life,  the  hours 
passed  as  though  winged  by  enchantment.  In  the  joy- 
ous clamor  of  the  camp  followers  and  the  scarcely  less 
restrained  hilarity  of  the  troops,  in  the  tramp  of  the 
horses,  the  clanking  of  arms,  there  was  a  subtile  music 
that  aroused  all  the  energies  of  her  adventurous  spirit, 
and  imbued  her  with  an  animation  which  like  a  ilamo 
within  a  crj^stal  vase  seemed  visibly  to  fill  and  surround 
her  whole  being  with  strength  and  beauty. 

Had  the  country  passed  over  been  as  dull  and  uninter- 
esting as  it  was  in  fact  wild  and  picturesque,  the  effect  of 
movement  and  change  would  have  been  still  the  same  to 
her ;  for  hers  was  a  mind  to  be  affected  by  the  various 
phases  of  humanity  rather  than  of  inanimate  nature. 
The  landscape  in  truth  offered  to  her  view  little  of  nov- 
elty, for  in  her  childhood  she  had  wandered  where  she  list- 
ed, and  her  lithe  young  limbs  had  been  as  untiring  as  her 
curiosit}'.  The  succeeding  canons  and  hills,  the  slopes 
and  cactus-planted  valleys,  were  but  counterparts  of  those 
which  she  had  explored  on  every  side  of  the  plain  on  which 
Tres  Hermanos  stood.  With  ready  tact  she  avoided  re- 
calling her  unwatched,  untended  childhood  to  the  mind  of 
Dona  Isabel,  who  received  with  a  distaste  which  seemed  of 
the  nature  of  regretful  shame  any  allusion  to  the  life  from 
which  the  girl  who  now  called  her  Tia  (aunt)  had  been 
rescued. 

The  use  of  this  appellation  had  been  brought  about  by 
Ruiz,  in  his  evident  uncertainty  as  to  how  the  apparent 
relationship  between  his  patroness  and  her  protegee  should 
be  defined.  He  had  tentatively  alluded  to  Dona  Isabel  as 
the  godmother  of  Chinita,  a  designation  which  some  con- 
scientious scruple  led  her  to  reject.  The  \vord  Tia  is  used 
by  Mexicans  as  a  term  of  respect  toward  an  elder  as  often 
as  in  actual  acknowledgment  of  relationsiiip ;  and  when 
with  some  daring  Chinita  one  day  applied  it  to  Dona  Isabel, 
in  answering  some  remark  <)i  the  young  captain,  the  lady 
allowed  it  to  pass  unchallenged ;  and  gradually  "  mi  Tia 
Isabel"  took  the  place  of  the  formal  "Senora,"  which 
hitherto  had  helped  to  keep  their  intercourse  as  reserved 


ds  of  (Inst 
.g  obscured 
;1  filled  her 
,  tlie  hours 
In  the  joy- 
carcely  less 
imp  of  the 
ibtile   music 
irous  spirit, 
like  a  llamc 
nd  surround 

and  unintor- 
,  the  effect  of 
the  same  to 
r  the  various 
mate  nature, 
little  of  nov- 
vhere  she  list- 
intiring  as  her 
Is,  the  slopes 
harts  of  those 
ilain  on  which 
[e  avoided  re- 
to  the  mind  of 
lich  seemed  of 
3  the  life  from 
mt)  had  been 

lUght  about  by 
the  apparent 
)rotegee  should 
)ona  Isabel  as 
ich  some  con- 
^rd  Tia  is  used 
elder  as  often 
ip;   and  when 
,o  Dona  Isabel, 
ptain,  the  lady 
iially  "  mi  Tin 
iefiora,"  which 
rse  as  reserved 


CHATA   AMD   CHimTA. 


323 


and  cold  as  when  Chinita  still  stood  at  the  gate -at  Pedro's 
side,  and  Dofia  Isabel  had  furtively  glanced  at  her  glow- 
ing beauty,  and  felt  the  hand  of  remorse  pressing  upon 
her  heart. 

The  haughty  lady  felt  it  still ;  and  that  it  was  which 
made  her  lenient  to  a  score  of  faults  in  this  young  girl  tliat 
in  her  own  children  would  have  been  deemed  almost  un- 
pardonable. She  did  not  admit  that  she  loved  her,  —  it  is 
doubtful  if  she  really  dia,  —  yet  she  strove  by  all  the  arts 
of  which  the  long  repression  of  her  nature  made  her  capable 
to  win  the  heart  of  the  girl,  who  she  saw  with  suspicious 
intuition  beheld  in  her  one  who  had  \,  onged  her,  and  was 
even  now  withholding  her  birthright.  Dona  Isabel  be- 
stowed rich  presents,  but  never  a  caress  ;  perhaps  Chinita 
would  have  spurned  the  last  as  lightly  as  she  received  the 
first.  Ruiz,  admitted  to  a  certain  intimacj'  bj-  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  time,  was  impressed  by  the  entire  absence  of  any 
sense  of  obligation  with  which  the  young  girl  took  her  place 
with  Dona  Isabel,  as  if  she  had  never  known  one  more 
humble,  while  there  was  something  in  the  cold  and  stately 
manner  of  Dona  Isabel  which  seemed  to  shrink  before  the 
imperious  force  of  character  of  her  young  companion. 

It  was  at  their  first  halt  that  Dona  Isabel  had,  with  un- 
expected hospitality,  sent  to  invite  Ruiz  to  share  their  mid- 
day meal ;  and,  evidentl}'  with  some  effort,  at  the  same  time 
she  bade  the  servant  extend  the  invitation  to  ti^e  voung 
American.  Ruiz  presented  himself  with  due  acknowledg- 
ments, but  Ashley  was  nowhere  to  be  found :  he  and  his 
servant  Pepe  had  disappeared  from  the  ranks.  No  one 
remembered  having  seen  them  since  they  ascended  the  face 
of  the  hill  of  the  graveyard ;  doubtless,  it  was  surmised, 
the  young  man  had  grown  weary,  and  had  unceremo- 
niously returned  to  Tres  Ilermanos. 

Dona  Isabel's  face  clouded.  Upon  the  next  day  she  had 
hoped  to  part  company  with  her  unwelcome  guest  forever ; 
and  now,  —  part  of  her  purpose  in  leaving  the  hacienda 
was  alreadj'  frustrated.  Ruiz  was  scarcely  less  disquieted  ; 
a  glance  at  Chinita's  triumphant  countenance  confirmed  his 
apprehensions.  Pepe,  at  least,  had  not  returned  to  the 
hacienda,  he  was  assured.  The  olTicer  had  had  it  in  his 
mind  to  have  the  servant  strictly  watched  ;  but  it  had  not 
occurred  to  him  that  upon  the  first  da}'  he  would  attcnrpt 


i 


ti'I-     i 


fe'! 


324 


CHAT  A   AJtD   CIIINITA. 


t\ 


^r^n(  \\ 


hii 


to  evade  him  and  fulfil  Chinita's  wild  project  of  summon- 
ing Ramirez.  He  inwardly  cursed  his  own  folly  and 
the  duplicity  of  Ashley,  whom  he  hitherto  had  not  for 
a  moment  supposed  in  sympathy  with  the  plot.  He  and 
the  3'oung  American  had  even  laughed  at  it  together  as' 
the  foolish  dream  of  an  imaginative  girl.  Now  to  the 
suspicious  officer's  apprehensions  was  added  a  burning 
jealousy.  For  Chinita's  sake  the  American  had  doubtless 
made  her  cause  his  own ;  and  with  sucli  an  ally,  Ruiz 
reflected,  it  was  not  impossible  that  he  might  see  himself 
confronted  by  the  man  who  he  knew  well  never  forgave  a 
slight,  never  left  unrcvenged  an  injury. 

The  manner  of  Ruiz  was  so  grave  and  abstracted  that 
day,  that  Dofia  Isabel  was  inclined  to  credit  him  with  far 
more  depth  and  earnestness  than  as  the  reputed  suitor  of 
Rosnrio,  or  the  air}'^  and  flippant  recreant  follower  of  the 
notorious  Ramirez,  she  had  attributed  to  him.  Ruiz  had 
the  art  o.  '  ^voluntarily  suiting  his  demeanor  and  conver- 
sation to  those  in  whose  company  he  was  thrown.  There 
was  no  conscious  hypocrisy  in  this,  for  the  desire  to  please 
was  natural  to  him,  and  often  served  him  in  good  stead  in 
the  absence  of  genuine  feeling,  and  even  under  the  sting 
of  wounded  self-love  held  him  silent,  and  masked  his  re- 
sentment. Manv  a  time  in  his  life-long  intercourse  with 
Ramirez  had  he  chafed  under  the  General's  hanght}'  patron- 
age and  made  no  sign ;  and  it  was  onl}'  when  he  found 
himself  thwarted  in  wliat  was  for  the  moment  his  strongest 
passion,  that  ho  began  to  question  the  designs  of  the  chief- 
tain to  whom  he  owed  all  the  fortune  which  birth  or 
talents  combine  to  make  possible  to  other  men. 

Ruiz  was  the  son  of  Tio  Reyes,  a  life-long  follower  of 
Ramirez,  for  whom  the  chieftain  had  been  sponsor,  and  to- 
ward whom  he  had  with  minute  conscientiousness  directed 
every  worldly  advantage  which  his  means  and  position  ren- 
dered possible.  To  Ramirez,  Ruiz  —  who  was  known  by 
the  name  of  his  mother  (a  not  uncommon  custom  where  her 
family  renders  the  cognomen  more  honorable  than  that  of 
the  father) — owed  the  chance  which  had  made  him  a  soldier 
of  fortune  instead  of  a  laborer  in  the  village  where  his 
brothers  and  sisters  plodded  and  toiled,  in  absolute  igno- 
rance of  the  father  who  had  forsaken  them. 

Ruiz's  knowledge  of  this  strengthened  his  resolution  to 


lilliiiltl; 


CHATA  AND  CniNITA. 


325 


»f  summon- 
i  folly  and 
ad  not  for 
t.     He  and 
together  as' 
^ow  to  the 
I  a  burning; 
ad  doubtlcsH 
1  ally,  Kuiz 
see  himself 
cr  forgave  a 

stracted  that 
him  with  far 
ited  suitor  of 
llowcr  of  the 
1.     Ruiz  had 
■  and  conver- 
rovvn.    There 
sire  to  please 
good  stead  in 
ider  the  sting 
laskcd  his  rc- 
crcourse  with 
lughty  patron- 
hen  he  found 
t  his  strongest 
is  of  the  chief- 
rhich  birth  or 

en. 

ig  follower  of 

)onsor,  and  to- 
isness  directed 
d  position  ren- 
was  known  by 
3tom  where  her 
)le  than  that  of 
Ic  him  a  soldier 
age  where  his 
absolute  igno- 

is  resolution  to 


ignore  the  past,  and  suffer  no  ill-timed  revelations  to  in- 
turfoi'e  with  his  determination  to  win  at  one  stci)  love  and 
fortune  by  gaining  the  hand  of  Uie  protetji'e  of  Dona  Jsabul, 
—  a  purpose  he  was  certain  IJamirez  would  op[)()sc!,  for  in 
a  moment  of  confidence  the  General  had  intirated  that 
it  was  to  a  daugliter  of  his  own,  in  accordai;  'u  with  a 
l)romise  made  long  years  before  to  Ueyes,  thai  the 
young  man  was  to  be  united ;  it  was  for  this  destiny  his 
future  had  been  shaped,  his  fortunes  moulded. 

At  any  previous  time  the  ambition  of  lluiz  would  have 
been  fully  satisfied  ;  his  whole  desire  would  have  been  to 
meet  this  promised  bride,  and  by  his  marriage  strengthen 
the  interest  which  the  caprice  or  atfection  of  Ramirez  alone 
caused  to  be  centred  upon  him,  and  which,  though  often 
burdensome  and  tyrannous,  was  apparently  the  3'our.g 
man's  sole  passport  to  success.  Even  when  in  pique  and 
half-timorous  defiance  he  took  advantage  of  his  separation 
from  Ramirez  to  follow  Rosario  to  Tres  Ilnrmanos,  it  was 
with  no  fixed  resolution  to  tempt  fortune  alone.  His  short- 
lived passion  and  his  independence  and  anger  would  have 
died  together,  had  not  his  love  for  Chinita  and  the  unex- 
pected opportunities  thrust  upon  him  opened  before  him  a 
l)rospect  of  advancement  and  triumph  far  above  his  wildest 
dreams,  and  completed  his  treason  to  his  early  patron, 
without  teaching  him  the  lesson  of  truth  either  to  the  new 
cause  or  to  the  mistress  to  which  he  was  sworn. 

In  the  eyes  of  Dona  Isabel  Ruiz  was  but  the  hireling 
whose  faith  was  purchased  for  Gonzales ;  in  those  of  Chi- 
nita, the  devoted  follower  of  Ramirez  ;  in  his  own  —  well, 
time  and  circumstance  would  decide. 

]Jke  thousands  of  others  who  took  part  in  the  strife  that 
rent  and  decimated  Mexico,  Ruiz  had  but  little  conception 
of  the  points  at  issue.  He  had  simply  followed  the  lead 
of  chc  popular  chieftain  to  whom  clrcumstaiKics  had  at- 
tached him.  He  had  learned  bv  observation  that  wealth 
flowed  from  the  coffers  of  the  clergy  into  the  hands  of 
Ramirez,  who  scattered  it  lavishly  to  all  about  him,  — 
dissipating  the  greater  part  in  luxurious  living  in  cities, 
and  the  maintcnanco  of  iiordos  of  A/llowers  in  towns  and 
cafions  of  the  mountains,  and  with  ready  superstition  re- 
turning much  to  the  source  whence  it  came,  for  never  a 
follower  of  his  kept  child  uuchristened  or  burial  Mass 


326 


CIIATA   AND  CUINITA. 


m 


Mir-: 


i  % 


unsaid  for  want  of  means  to  purchase  the  services  of  a 
priest. 

Ramirez  had  appeared  to  the  young  imagination  of  Ruiz 
absolute  and  ubiquitous.  Tliere  were  few  daring  deeds 
done  that  he  had  not  shared  in ;  scarce  a  town  been  seized 
and  its  merchants  arrested  until  the  forced  loans  demanded 
from  them  were  paid,  scarce  a  train  of  wagons  laden  with 
silver  stopped,  scarce  ^  pronuiiciamleitto  with  its  excite- 
ment and  rapid  exchange  of  power  and  property  eflected, 
that  ho  had  taken  no  part  in.  He  had  been  found  wherever 
fighting  or  plunder  were.  He  had  taken  a  bloody  part  in 
the  repulse  of  the  Liberals  at  the  City  of  Mexico,  where 
the  names  of  Zuloaga  the  President  and  of  Miramon  alike 
were  made  infamous.  He  had  shai'cd  in  the  futile  attacks 
upon  Vera  Cruz,  where  Juarez  at  the  h(;ad  of  the  Provi- 
sional Government  maintained  with  stubborn  tenacity, 
with  a  handful  of  followers,  the  most  important  stronghold 
upon  the  seaboard,  promulgating  those  unprecedented  reso- 
lutions and  decrees  which  revealed  to  the  minds  of  the 
people  that  of  which  they  had  never  hitherto  dreamed,  — 
namely,  the  separation  of  Church  and  State  ;  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  monasteries,  which  like  vampires  had  for 
generations  drained  the  resources  and  absorbed  the  in- 
tellect of  the  people ;  and  the  secularization  of  those  im- 
mense treasures  which,  donated  by  the  faithful  to  feed  the 
hungrj'^  and  the  sick,  train  the  orphans,  maintain  the  glory 
and  worship  of  God,  had  become  the  means  of  oppression 
and  bloodshed,  and  were  the  thews  and  sinews  of  the  civil 
war,  in  which  the  clerg}'  strove  to  maintain  the  abuses  of 
the  past  and  forge  fresh  chains  for  the  future. 

In  a  country  where  the  dogmas  of  Catholicism  were  as 
the  oracles  of  God,  where  every  heart  was  bound  either 
by  the  truths  or  the  superstitions  of  Rome,  or  in  most 
cases  by  both  inseparably,  the  magnitude  of  the  task 
assumed  by  tlio  astute  and  resolute  Juarez  was  almost 
beyond  the  comprehension  of  those  bred  in  the  lands  which 
have  never  groaned  beneath  the  yoke  of  ecclesiastical 
t3'ranny.  Au}'^  premature  act,  any  unguarded  word,  might 
become  the  cause  of  offence  ;  and  yet  it  was  no  time  for 
hesitation  or  timorous  questioning. 

Juarez  knew  the  time  and  the  temper  of  his  country- 
men ;  and  environed  though  he  was,  virtually  imprisoned 


CHATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


327 


irviccs  of  a 

tion  of  Ruiz 
living  deeds 
been  seized 
IS  demanded 
3  laden  with 
1  its  excite- 
rty  ctl'ected, 
nd  wherever 
oody  part  in 
3xico,  where 
iranion  ahke 
iitile  attacks 
if  the  Trovi- 
>rn   tenacity, 
it  stronghold 
idcnted  reso- 
minds  of  the 

dreamed,  — 

the  suppres- 
ires  had  for 
»rbed  the  in- 

of  those  im- 
iil  to  feed  the 
tain  the  glory 
of  oppression 
sv's  of  the  civil 

the  abuses  of 

icism  were  as 
bound  either 
B,  or  in  most 
3  of  the  task 
;z  was  almost 
le  lands  which 
ecclesiastical 
d  word,  might 
as  no  time  for 

)f  his  country- 
Uy  imprisoned 


in  one  small  town  upon  the  seashore,  his  influence  reached 
to  the  most  remote  districts  of  the  int(jrior.  And  although 
the  armies  of  the  clergy  swept  the  country  from  sea  to  sea, 
in  obscure  fastnesses  rose  daring  bands  in  tens  and  twen- 
ties and  hundreds,  who  promulgating  the  new  promises  of 
liberty  sent  forth  b}'  Juarez,  maintained  them  with  a  tena- 
city of  purpose  that  made  defeat  impossible.  Worsted  in 
one  quarter,  they  arose  in  another,  employing  with  unscru- 
pulous daring  every  means  that  cunning  or  audacity  could 
bring  within  their  power, —  claiming  the  excuse  of  necessity 
for  those  acts  of  rapine  and  cruelty  in  the  satisfaction  of 
personal  enmities,  the  warfare  upon  the  women  and  chil- 
dren, and  the  thousand  barbarous  deeds  which  make  the 
history  of  that  time  a  continual  record  of  horrors.  Had 
example  been  necessary,  they  would  have  found  it  in  the 
career  of  the  opposing  forces ;  but  in  truth  it  was  a  time 
when  the  attributes  of  patriot  and  plunderer,  soldier  and 
bandit,  became  inextricably  confused  ;  so  that,  perhaps  as 
completely  to  himself  as  to  others,  the  average  actor  in  that 
bloody  drama  became  a  ballHng  and  unsatisfying  enigma. 

Such  was  the  mental  condition  of  Ruiz,  though  it  did 
not  occur  to  him  to  define  it.  Attached  to  the  clerical 
party  by  long  association,  and  by  the  uninterrupted  pros- 
perity which  he  had  shared  with  Ramirez,  —  who  since 
separating  himself  from  Gonzales  had  followed  an  inde- 
pendent career,  in  which  he  had  found  the  highest  bidders 
for  his  services  among  the  crafty  leaders  of  the  old  regime 
(who  to  their  rich  gifts  added  the  indulgences  of  the 
Church,  to  which  no  soul  however  blood-stained  and  con- 
scienceless could  remain  indifferent), —  when  Ruiz  declared 
himself  to  Don  Rafael  a  convert  to  the  Liberal  cause,  it 
was  but  as  a  precautionarj'  measure  recommended  b3^ 
Dona  Rita ;  and  it  was  only  when  he  saw  in  Dona  Isabel 
a  patroness  more  powerful  than  the  one  he  had  abandoned, 
added  to  his  resolution  to  make  himself  independent  of 
the  man  who  had  hitherto  controlled  as  well  as  defended 
him,  that  he  in  reality  inclined  to  the  faction  which  da}'^ 
by  daj^  seemed  gathering  strcngtli,  and  likcl}'  to  become^ 
the  dominant  power. 

But  though  his  political  views  thus  shaped  themselves 
to  meet  Dona  Isabel's,  Ruiz  was  no  more  faithful  to  her 
purposes  than  to  those  of  Chiuita.     To  abandon  Gonzales 


1* 


328 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


m  ! 


to  his  fate  at  El  Toro,  —  for  lie  did  not  doubt  that  Ramirez 
would  return  with  overwht'lniing  niiuibcrs  to  tlio  destruc- 
tion of  its  insulHcient  jjurrison,  — and  at  tlie  same  tiniu  to 
win  tlie  confidence  of  Dona  Isabel  and  that  of  the  troops 
under  his  command,  thereafter  seizing  the  first  opportunity 
of  having  himself  proclaimed  their  permanent  leader  and 
inarching  to  join  Juarez,  whose  cause  was  becoming 
strengthened  day  by  day  by  fresh  accessions  from  the 
interior,  became  his  tlream.  Thus  he  hoped  to  blind 
Chinita  by  an  apparent  inability  rather  tlian  disinclination 
to  further  her  designs,  mislead  Dona  Isabel,  and  secure 
for  himself  a  position  which  should  render  it  not  absurd  or 
incredible  that  he  should  aspire  to  the  hand  of  a  protegee 
of  the  Garcias,  and  to  the  dower  which  he  shrewdly 
suspected  he  might  of  right  demand. 

All  these  i)lan8  were  not  perfected  in  a  day,  and  the 
defection  of  Ashley  Ward  and  his  servant  seriously  in- 
terfered in  the  ambitious  captain's  calculations ;  but  he 
allowed  no  trace  of  uneasiness  to  appear  in  those  rare 
intervals  when  he  found  an  opportunity  to  exchange  a  few 
words  with  the  impatient  Chinita. 

Unconsciously  also,  Dona  Isabel  herself  aided  to  estab- 
lish a  bond  of  confidence  between  them.  When  the  long 
irregular  column,  with  banners  flying,  driving  before  it 
the  lowing  cattle,  whose  numbers  grew  less  after  each 
night's  slaughter,  and  followed  by  the  motley  line  of  women 
and  children  with  the  rude  equipage  of  the  camp,  would 
be  fairly  in  motion  after  the  confusion  of  the  early  start, 
Ruiz  would  rein  his  prancing  steed  at  the  side  of  the 
carriage  and  deferentially  place  himself  at  the  orders  of  the 
ladies.  On  these  occasions  his  manner  was  one  of  perfect 
respect  to  both,  of  entire  concurrence  in  the  dictates  and 
desires  of  Dona  Isabel,  and  of  half-indifferent,  half-amused 
rejection  of  the  immature  and  inconsequent  conjectures 
and  opinions  of  the  girl,  for  whocse  beauty  he  exhibited  a 
timid  but  irresistible  recognition,  which  flattered  while  it 
disarmed  the  suspicious  mind  of  Dona  Isabel.  She  be- 
liovod  him  still  the  ardent  ndmiror  of  Rosnrio,  —  a  thing 
which,  she  reflected,  was  under  the  circumstances  most 
fortunate. 

In  the  freshness  and  animation  of  those  morning  hours 
conversation  became  natural  and  easy,  and  the  events  and 


en  ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


329 


at  Ramirez 
lie  aestnic- 
iiiie  timu  to 

the  troops  .  - 
opportunity 

leader  and 
s  becoming 
IS  from  the 
cd  to  blind 
isinclination 

and  secure 
ot  absurd  or 
.f  a  protegee 
he  slirewdly 

Jay,  and  the 
seriously  in- 
ions ;  but  he 
n  those  rare 
:change  a  tew 

Ided  to  estab- 
f  hen  the  long 
ring  before  it 
ss  after  each 
line  of  women 
s  camp,  would 
le  early  start, 
e  side  of  the 
c  orders  of  the 
one  of  perfect 
c  dictates  and 
t,  half-amused 
nt  conjectures 
he  exhibited  a 
ttered  while  it 
ibel.     She  be- 
,^io,  —  a  thing 
instances  most 

morning  hours 
the  events  and 


names  which  were  upon  every  tongue  furnislied  food  for 
iibiindant  reminiscence  and  comment.  Dona  Isabel  was 
t'lo(|uent  in  praise  of  Gonzales,  wlio  to  his  success  at 
El  Toro  had  added  others  in  the  neighboriiood,  which 
together  with  tho  occupation  of  Guanai)ila  had  made  the 
entire  district  the  undisputed  territory  of  Liberalism. 
Kuiz  assented  to  her  enthusiasm  with  an  ardor  which 
seemed  but  natural  in  a  youth  who  having  separated  him- 
fielf  from  one  powerful  patron,  should  desire  to  place  him- 
self beneath  the  protection  of  another ;  and  a  compari- 
son of  the  two,  which  should  explain  his  defection  from 
the  first,  followed  in  natural  course ;  and  witli  carefull}' 
cliosGu  words,  whose  meaning  held  a  subtile  relation  to 
tiic  thoughts  and  predilections  of  his  two  auditors,  he 
spoke  of  the  intrepid  and  unscrupulous  Ramirez. 

More  than  once  Dona  Isabel,  in  the  midst  of  his  talk, 
sank  back  in  the  carriage  lost  in  deep  and  painful  thought, 
as  the  wild  and  terrible  deeds  in  which  that  lawless  man 
had  figured  recalled  to  her  mind  the  horrors  of  her  youth. 
Deeds  such  as  these  might  have  been  planned  and  exe- 
cuted by  the  boy  who  had  once  been  the  pride,  as  he  was 
afterward  the  bane,  of  her  life,  had  he  lived ;  but  he  was 
dead.  Yes,  thank  God !  though  her  heart  had  bled  in- 
wardl}'  for  long  years  ;  he  had  made  no  sign  since  the  tale 
of  his  end  came  —  he  was  dead  ! 

While  she  was  thus  lost  in  thought,  Chinita  listened 
with  glowing  cheek  and  eyes.  Ruiz  knew  of  the  meeting 
with  Ramirez  to  which  she  looked  back  with  such  peculiar 
and  unwearying  fascination  ;  and  discerning  in  her  admira- 
tion of  his  former  leader  an  unfailing  means  of  rousing  in 
her  a  personal  attraction  which  in  her  passionate  nature 
might  become  an  absorbing  love,  he  carefully  refrained 
from  giving  her  any  hint  of  his  real  sentiments  toward 
her  hero,  and  spared  no  covert  word,  no  mute  eloquence 
of  his  dark  and  expressive  eyes,  to  Increase  an  enthusiasm 
which  had  already  led  her  into  such  strange  defiance  of 
the  plans  of  Doiia  Isabel.  To  reinstate  her  hero  in  the 
powMM'  from  which  lie  Imd  fallen  became  Cliinita'a  dream, 
the  as[)iration  of  her  soul. 

On  the  fifth  night  of  their  journey  it  chanced  that  they 
entered  a  village,  where  Dona  Isabel  and  her  servants 
were  enabled  to  find  u  shelter,  which  after  the  restricted 


lit 


m 


»<'Mlii|W 


V:U 


330 


CIIATA   AND  CniNITA. 


M. 


VI 


•A.  i 


.'f 


Qri-^-H 


^.^f'i: 


and  insuinciciit  ftccommodation  of  tents  seemed  absolutely 
luxurious,  primitive  and  rude  thou<;ii  it  was.  Doila  Isabel 
wearied  witli  travel,  and  depressed  with  anxiety  at  tlie 
unaccountable  delay  of  Gonzales,  who  she  had  sui)poscd 
would  have  hastened  to  take  command  of  the  troops  that 
licu"  energy  and  bounty  had  provided,  had  early  rctireil  to 
the  room  assigned  her.  Chinita  had  reluctantly  aceoin[)a- 
nicd  her,  for  a  fandango  was  in  progress  in  the  great 
kitchen,  tlie  charcoal  brasiers  Uaming  retl  against  the  dark 
walls  of  yellow-washed  adobe,  and  shining  upon  the 
bronzed  faces  of  a  group  of  swarthy  men,  who  strummed 
upon  stringed  instruments  of  various  shapes  and  sizes ; 
while  another  group  of  mingled  men  and  women  went 
through  the  rliythmic  motions  of  the  dance,  with  which  the 
young  girl,  gazing  from  her  cell-like  retreat  across  the 
court,  had  long  been  so  familiar. 

Chinita  had  never  danced  since  the  night  that  she  had 
fled  from  the  wedding yjcs^a  into  the  waiting  arms  of  Dona 
Isabel.  She  had  thought  of  the  scene  and  its  pleasures 
only  with  anger  and  disgust ;  and  3'et  as  she  looked  into 
the  red  glare  and  watched  the  swaying  figures,  she  longed 
to  rush  in  and  throw  herself  among  them.  To  her,  as 
to  Dona  Isabel,  the  time  of  suspense  was  growing  unbear- 
ably long ;  she  was  mad  for  action.  Unreasonabl}',  she 
felt  that  there  among  their  caste  she  might  find  Pedro, 
l*epu,  —  some  one  who  would  do  her  bidding,  who  would 
not  dare  put  her  off  as  Ruiz  was  doing  with  tantalizing 
promises. 

Chinita  knew  that  instead  of  following  the  most  direct 
paths  as  Dona  Isabel  had  commanded,  the  route  on  vari- 
ous pretexts  had  been  changed,  —  she  supposed  to  make 
communication  with  Ramirez  possible.  She  had  no  reason 
to  doubt  the  good  faith  of  Ruiz,  yet  she  was  impatient  and 
miserable.  A  straggler  upon  the  road  had  given  them  the 
news  that  Ramirez  had  been  seen  upon  the  hills  with  a 
forlorn  and  ill-armed  troop,  which  bore  evidence  of  the 
ill  fortune  which  the  defeat  at  El  Toro  had  inaugurated. 
She  had  conceived  a  violent  and  unreasonable  antagonism 
to  Gonzales,  who  from  his  whilom  associate  had  become 
the  successful  opponent  and  rival  of  the  man  whom  by  the 
childish  gift  of  an  amulet  she  had  fancied  herself  endow- 
ing with  invincible  good  fortune.    Even  as  she  grew  older, 


CHATA   AND  CIUNITA. 


331 


I  absolutely 
[Joiltt  laabol 
:iety  at  the 
ul  suppoHod 
;  troops  thtit 
•ly  retired  to 
tly  aceomi>a- 
LU  the  great 
inst  the  dark 
jjr   ui)OU  the 
^  stiuiniued 
9  and  tjizes; 
■woiucii  went 
nth  which  the 
sat  across  the 

t  that  she  had 
arras  of  Doiia 
I  its  pleasures 
jhe  looked  into 
L«c8,  she  longed 
k.     To  her,  as 
rowing  unbcar- 
•easonably,  she 
ht  find  Pedro, 
ing,  who  would 
with  tantalizing 

the  most  direct 
B  route  on  vari- 
^iposed  to  make 
fe  had  no  reason 
\%  impatient  and 
I  given  them  tlic 
[the  hills  with  a 

ividence  of  the 
iiad  inaugurated, 
[able  antagonism 

ate  had  become 
Ian  whom  by  the 
fd  herself  endow- 
sUe  grew  older, 


her  faitli  in  the  magic  powers  of  a  cliarin  wliich  had  been 
tlie  creation  of  a  wizard,  and  liad  been  blessed  by  Holy 
Church,  scarcely  grew  less ;  and  the  remembrance  of  it 
uudoubtedly  strengthened  the  fealty  so  :,Lrangely  sworn. 
Itesides,  a  purpose  had  arisen  in  lier  mind  of  u[)i>ealing  to 
Uamire/  to  establish  her  position  in  tlu^  house  of  Garcia, 
by  wresting  from  Dofia  Isabel  an  acknowledgment  which 
would  give  her  rights  and  a  certain  status  (though 
clouded  it  might  be)  where  now  she  was  but  the  recipient 
of  favors,  —  the  peasant  born  raised  to  a  dignity  which 
was  a  mere  scoff  and  jest  to  the  ready  wit  of  the  sarcastic 
and  epigrammatic  rancheros.  Chinita  knew  them  well. 
Were  not  their  gifts  and  prejudices  her  own? 

Musing  thus,  the  girl  glanced  from  the  barred  window 
where  siie  stood  back  through  the  gloom  of  the  apartment 
to  the  bed  where  Dona  Isabel  was  lying,  —  already'  asleei). 
The  yellow  light  of  a  candle  just  touched  the  lady's  pale 
lace ;  it  was  contracted  with  that  habitual  expression  of 
pain  which  the  darkness  of  night  pcrmitUid  to  the  proud 
and  sutlering  woman,  but  which  in  the  day,  or  under  the 
eye  of  even  the  most  unobservant,  she  banished  resolutely, 
though  its  shadow  rested  ever  uncomprehended,  unpitied. 

There  was  something  in  the  lassitude  of  Dona  Isabel's 
figure,  the  hopeless  grief  upon  the  countenance,  which  for 
the  first  time  suggested  to  Chinita  the  possibiliiy  that 
emotions  deeper  than  that  pride  of  birth  which  was  as 
great  in  degree  in  herself,  though  neither  as  pure  in  prin- 
ciple nor  bounded  b}'  the  conventionalities  of  caste,  had 
actua^^ed  the  deeds  and  embittered  the  life  of  her  who  to 
the  "ye  had  been  so  absolute,  so  unassailable.  With  a 
feeling  of  awe  Chinita  took  a  step  toward  the  sleeper,  when 
a  sound  drew  her  glance  to  the  court.  Into  the  motley 
throng  of  lounging  soldiers  and  arrieros,  with  their  mules 
feeding  and  stamping  around  them,  two  belated  travellers 
forced  their  way.  It  was  the  voice  of  one  of  them  that 
had  startled  the  watcher,  and  claimed  instantl}'  all  her 
thoughts,  setting  her  heart  beating  stifiingly  as  she  sprang 
to  the  lattice  and  pressed  her  lace  eagerly  against  the 
iron  bars. 

The  red  light  from  the  kitchen  was  augmented  by  the 
flame  of  a  smoking  torch,  as  a  servant  came  forward  to 
take  the  horse  of  the  foremost  rider.     When  he  leaped 


vma 


I 


',■■■'.  ?,i 


332 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


:,']'■  ■! 


lightly  from  his  saddle,  pushing  back  his  broad  hat,  Chinita 
recognized  the  American,  while  a  woman  ran  across  tlie 
court  and  clasped  the  arm  of  the  other  as  he  alighted : 
it  was  Juana,  the  wife  of  Gabriel. 

''  Hist !  hist !  "  said  the  man  in  a  low  voice,  "  no  crying 
nor  screaming.  The  Senor  and  I  are  here  on  business 
tliat  would  please  your  captain  but  little.  By  good  fortune 
he  is  camped  to-night  at  the  outskirts  of  the  viilage, 
and  dare  not  leave  his  post.  Tell  me,  Juanii,  —  and 
not  a  word  to  Gabriel  when  thou  seest  him, — where  is 
Chinita?" 

Before  Juana  could  gather  her  wits  to  reply,  a  hand  was 
thrust  through  the  bars  almost  at  the  speaker's  shoulder ; 
but  it  was  Ashley  who  first  saw  it.  He  took  it  for  an 
instant  in  his  own,  and  bent  over  it.  "I  must  speak 
with  you,  Cliinita,"  he  said;  "join  me  in  the  corridor  as 
soon  as  the  house  is  quiet.     I  have  much  to  say." 

It  was  not  the  voice  of  a  lover  that  spoke,  but  it  thrilled 
her  as  that  of  a  prophet.  "  Speak  low,"  she  answered, 
breathlessly,  "  Dona  Isabel  sleeps  close  by ;  but  I  will 
escape,  —  yes,  I  will  come  to  you.  Is  not  Juana  with  3'ou? 
Slie  must  take  my  place  here.  The  door  is  locked ;  the 
key  is  in  the  hand  of  Doiia  Isabel.  But  I  will  have  it, 
trust  me  ;  the  Senora  sleeps  heavily." 

The'girl's  face  glowed  with  excitement ;  she  was  ready 
for  any  adventure,  the  more  daring  the  more  welcome. 
Ashley  Ward  looked  at  her  with  a  strange  pride  and  ad- 
miration :  this  was  a  nature  that  no  shame  could  crush, 
no  outward  fate  dismay ! 

Chinita,  standing  at  the  grating,  feeling  an  almost  unre- 
strainable  desire  to  burst  into  wild  laughter  and  tears,  was 
for  some  time  utterly  silent,  waiting  the  hour  when,  the  re- 
velry over,  sleep  would  fall  upon  the  house.  Ashley  drew 
into  the  shade  of  the  corridor.  Tlie  inn  was  but  a  caravan- 
sary ;  there  was  none  to  notice  who  came  or  went.  In  the 
laughing,  chattering  crowd  he  was  virtually  alone.  The 
thoughts  that  came  to  him  as  the  fires  faded,  as  the  noisy 
revellers  strolled  one  by  one  to  their  sleeping-places,  and 
the  pale  light  of  the  stfirs  shining  down  upon  that  strange 
scene  showed  Pepo  wrapped  in  his  blanket,  standing  sen- 
tinel at  liis  side,  were  indescribable.  A  phantasmagoria 
seemed  to  glide  before  him,  in  which  Mary,  his  cousin, 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


333 


jr,  a  hand  was 
er's  shoulder ; 
ook  it  for  an 
[  must  speak 
lie  corridor  as 


the  ordinary  places,  scenes,  and  associates  of  his  youth, 
Ramirez,  Chata,  all  the  strange  actors  in  this  drama,  in 
new  and  ill-comprehended  scenes,  passed  by ;  and  in  the 
midst  the  door  of  a  chamber  cautiously  opened,  and  the 
girl  of  the  siren  face,  which  the  very  voice  of  fate  had 
seemed  to  bid  him  seek  in  this  far  land,  stepped  eagerly 
and  lightly  forth  to  meet  him. 


ana  with  you  ? 

s  locked;  the 

will  have  it, 


M\ 


i :  m 


m  I 


It* 


XXXV. 

In  an  angle  of  the  corridor,  where  from  sunrise  to 
sunset  a  woman  usually  sat,  selling  cigarettes  and  small 
glasses  of  chia  to  the  passers-by,  stood  a  low  banquitOy 
which  was  in  fact  only  a  superfluous  adobe  jutting  out 
from  the  massive  wall.  Ashley  withdrew  his  foot  from  this 
rude  stool  and  greeted  Chinita  ceremoniously,  and  yet 
with  an  air  of  protecting  authority,  inviting  her  by  a  ges- 
ture to  be  seated,  saying,  "  So  you  will  be  less  likely  to 
be  seen  by  anj'  chance  comer.  But  from  necessity,  I 
would  not  have  asked  you  to  speak  to  me  here." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  with  a  little  quiver  of  laughter  rip- 
pling her  mouth,  though  her  eyes  were  anxious.  Evi- 
dently she  was  troubled  with  no  sense  of  impropriety,  and 
the  thought  of  having  eluded  Doiia  Isabel  diverted  her. 
Instead  of  obeying  Ashley's  invitation,  she  darted  to 
Pepo's  side,  caught  a  fold  of  his  blanket  in  her  hand,  and 
drew  it  from  his  half-covered  face. 

"Ah,  Pepito,  and  is  it  thou?"  she  cried  breathlessly. 
*' What  news  dost  thou  bring  me?  Hast  thou  then  seen 
my  godfather,  and  what  does  he  say  of  the  Senor  General? 
Does  he  not  think  the  plan  a  good  one  ?  " 

Pepe  shuffled  uneasily  to  regain  possession  of  the  blan- 
ket, answering  pettishly  and  in  a  stifled  voice,  "  Is  the 
servant  to  talk  when  the  master  stands  by  with  the  words 
ready?  Go  now,  Chinita,  you  knew  better  than  that 
when  Florencia  used  to  pull  your  ears  for  a  saucy  one  ! " 

The  girl  pouted,  turning  to  Ashley  with  a  lowering 
face.  She  felt  instinctively  that  what  had  been  to  her  a 
matter  of  simple  expedienc}^,  a  means  of  securing  the  for- 
tunes of  a  man  who  was  in  her  imagination  all  that  was 
noble  and  great,  might  have  a  meaner  aspect  to  this 
stranger,  who  would  perhaps  think  she  had  meant  harm 
to  Dona  Isabel.  Why  had  Pci)e  dragged  this  American 
into  the  matter  at  all?     Idiot!  Ruiz  had  said  nothing  but 


■'H', 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


335 


sunrise  to 
;s  and  small 
iw  hanquito^ 
J  jutting  out 
Dot  from  this 
ly,  and  yet 
tier  by  a  ges- 
less  likely  to 

necessity,  I 

e." 

f  laughter  rip- 
ixious.  Kvi- 
)ropriety,  and 
diverted  her. 
he  darted  to 
icr  hand,  and 

breathlessly, 
hou  then  seen 
enor  General? 

ti  of  the  blan- 
oice,   "  Is  the 
vith  the  words 
ter  than  that 
laucy  one ! " 
th  a  lowering 
been  to  her  a 
curing  the  for- 
n  all  that  was 
ispect  to  this 
d  meant  harm 
this  American 
d  nothing  but 


evil  would  come  of  it ;  and  hero  was  the  stranger  standing 
so  straight  and  silent  to  be  questioned,  —  and  looking  at 
her,  too,  with  a  sort  of  pity  in  the  curious  gaze  he  turned 
upon  her.  She  felt  half  inclined  to  turn  back  to  the  room 
whence  she  had  come  ;  yet  she  said  somewhat  mockingly, 

"It  is  you,  Senor,  who  must  speak,  though  it  was  the 
servant  I  sent  on  my  errand  ;  but  perhaps  you  have  seen 
Pedro  and  asked  him  my  questions  ?  " 

"You  had  better  sit  down,  Chinita,"  answered  Ashley, 
severely.  ' '  I  should  not  be  here  to-night  if  it  were  not 
to  tell  you'things  hard  for  you  to  listen  to,  and  only  to 
learn  of  matters  of  life  or  death  should  you  have  consented 
to  come.  Heavens  !  what  a  strange  perversity  of  fate  that 
you  of  all  others  should  be  anxious  for  the  welfare,  infatu- 
ated with  the  character,  of —  Ramirez  ! " 

He  spoke  the  name  as  though  it  were  a  curse,  and  the 
ready  flame  leaped  into  Chinita's  ej-es  ard  cheek. 

"  Ah,  then,"  she  said,  in  a  low  but  intense  and  pene- 
trating tone,  "3'ou  have  come  to  tell  me,  like  the  others, 
that  he  is  a  brigand  and  a  wretch !  It  is  false !  He  is 
too  brave,  too  daring,  too  noble  for  such  cowardly  spirits 
as  3'ours  to  understand !  Pepe,  thou  wert  a  craven. 
Stupid,  it  was  Pedro  I  bade  thee  go  to,  not  to  this  pale 
American,  who  has  lost  all  his  blood  through  a  single 
wound ! " 

Ashley  smiled  faintly,  vexed  to  find  himself  stung  by  a 
girl's  unreasoning  passion,  but  interposed  quietly,  "  We 
lose  time,  Seiiorita,  which  is  prudent  neither  for  you  nor 
for  me.  I  beg  you  will  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say.  You 
will  agree  with  me  then  that  this  is  no  hour  to  talk  of  m}' 
courage  or  the  lack  of  it." 

He  had  stepped  between  her  and  Pepd,  to  whom  with 
a  strange  perversit}'  she  turned  as  if  to  show  her  dis- 
dain for  the  foreigner,  whose  every  word  had  a  tone  of 
reproach.  A  mere  suggestion  that  the  proprieties  which 
Dofia  Feliz  and  Dona  Isabel  had  attempted  to  graft  upon 
the  rude  stalk  of  her  untrained,  unguarded  childhood  had 
some  other  meaning  than  an  elder's  caprices,  touched  Chi- 
nita's mind  :  a  young  man  could  know  nothing  of  woman's 
freaks  ond  prejudices ;  she  felt  the  hot  blood  rising  to  her 
check  as  she  encountered  his  quiet  gaze.  All  at  once  the 
court  and  corridor  seemed  to  l)ccomc  wonderfully  dark 


■  i 


iM  i 


sBEiaMaieia 


1;ii 


i..$  ir;^  I 


*^ 


:ili 


336 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


and  still.  A  alight  shudder  ran  through  her  frame ;  she 
drew  back  from  the  American  and  sat  down  where  he  had 
directed  her,  drawing  her  reboso  close  around  ber. 

"  Senor,"    'le  said,  quite  humbly,  "I  am  Ustening." 

Ashley  did  .  ot  speak  at  once,  though  Pep<'  seemed  to  urge 
him  to  do  so  by  a  motion  of  the  head,  which  betokened 
readiness  to  confirm  his  speech ;  and  when  he  began,  it 
was  at  0  point  entirely  unexpected  by  either  listener. 

"  Seiiorita,"  he  said,  "is  it  not  true  that  when  you 
think  of  an  American,  you  ave  in  your  mind  a  pale-faced, 
mysterious,  unresisting  youth,  gliding  spectre-like  about 
the  hacienda  walls,  tempting  by  a  love-song  the  bloody 
steel  of  some  dark  and  daring  desperado  ?  In  a  word,  is  it 
not  the  vision  —  distorted,  insufticient,  faint  —  of  my  mur- 
dered cousin,  John  Ashley,  that  comes  before  you?" 

The  young  girl  started.  "Yes!  yes!"  she  said  hur- 
riedly, not  knowing  wliat  she  said.  "At  least,  once  I 
thought  like  that.  I  had  not  seen  an  American  then ;  I 
did  not  know  —  " 

"  And  the  first  American  you  have  known  has  had  the 
benefit  of  the  preconception,"  interrupted  Ashley,  grimly. 
"  Well,  it  is  something  to  know  the  secret  of  a  contemp- 
tuous indifference  which  has  always  been  so  frankly  ex- 
pressed." This  comment  was  in  English,  and  though  Chi- 
nita  watched  tlie  motion  of  his  lips,  tlieir  silence  could  not 
have  given  her  better  opportunity  to  recover  her  confused 
and  startled  thoughts. 

"  Then  it  is  true,"  she  said.  "  You  arc  of  the  family  of 
the  poor  American,  who  was  killed  like  a  rabbit  by  a 
hawk.  Why,  they  say  that  he  could  not  have  even 
clapped  his  hand  on  his  belt,  though  a  man  from  very 
instinct  would  draw  a  knife  on  his  enemy,  even  in  his  last 
gasp.  Is  it  not  so,  Pepito?  I  used  to  tell  Chata  that, 
when  she  would  shed  her  soft  tears  of  pity  for  him.  Well, 
I  could  not  cry,  but  I  have  watched  at  the  mesquite-tree 
for  the  coming  of  his  ghost  a  thousand  times ;  yet  I 
never  saw  it,  —  and  it  was  I  who  found  his  grave." 

"  And  it  was  you  who  bade  Pepe  show  it  me,"  inter- 
rupted Ashley;  "and  perhaps  not  as  a  mere  jest  as  he 
thought."  She  nodded,  looking  up  at  him  vaguely  and 
kcenl}'.  "  You  thought  perhaps  I  had  come  these  many 
miles  from  my  own  country  to  fitid  it?  "  he  added.    "  Well, 


C II ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


337 


frame;  she 
here  be  bad 
her. 

itening." 
einedtourge 
3b  betokened 
he  began,  it 
istener. 
Lat  wbcn  you 
,  a  pale-faced, 
tre-Ukc  about 
ig  the  bloody 
n  a  word,  is  it 
—  of  my  mur- 
■e  you  r 

she  said  bur- 
i  least,  once  I 
ericanthen;  1 

wn  bas  had  the 
Ashley,  grimly. 
1  of  a  contemp- 
80  frankly  cx- 
md  thougb  Cbi- 
llcnce  could  not 
erbcr  confused 

of  the  family  of 

.  a  rabbit  by  a 

not  bave  even 

yy^an  from  very 

even  in  bis  last 

[tell  Cbata  that, 
for  him.    Well, 
le  mesquite-trec 

Id  times;  yet  i 

lis  grave." 
)W  it  me,"  inter- 
mere  jest  as  be 
lim  vaguely  and 
icome  these  many 
Udded.    "Well, 


that  was  scarcely  so ;  it  had  not  presented  itself  to  me  as 
possible  that  the  obscure  grave  of  a  murdered  foreigner 
should  be  remembered  still,  and  that  his  name  should  bo 
found  above  it.  No,  I  came  for  proofs  of  John  Ashley's 
life,  not  of  his  death.  It  was  not  even  to  trace  his  mur- 
derer or  to  avenge  him  that  I  came." 

She  looked  incredulous.  "  Why  then  should  you 
come?"  she  asked.  "Had  you  a  vow?  If  I  had  known 
and  loved  the  dead  man,  it  would  have  been  to  kill  the 
man  who  struck  him  in  secret  that  I  would  have  come. 
But  it  is  as  Captain  Ruiz  says,  —  the  blood  of  an  Amer- 
ican runs  so  slowly  it  cools  his  heart,  while  oijrs  is  a 
burning  torrent  that  causi'S  the  soul  to  leap  and  the  hand 
to  smite  at  a  word." 

Ashley  realized  that  impatient  contempt  of  him  was 
struggling  with  a  feeUng  to  which,  with  sudden  apprehen- 
sion of  its  importance,  she  dared  not  give  utterance ;  or 
perhaps  the  idea  that  had  long  been  shaping  itself  was 
for  the  moment  obscured,  but  yet  in  the  darkness  and 
confusion  was  growing  to  an  overwhelming  certainty  in 
her  mind.  Chinita  had  risen  to  her  feet,  but  suddenl}'  she 
sat  down,  covering  her  face  with  a  hand  which  Ashley 
saw  in  the  dim  light  shook  with  suppressed  excitement. 
Her  attitude  was  that  of  a  listener ;  and  in  a  low  voice  he 
told  her  of  his  boyhood,  of  the  daj's  when  he  had  come 
in  from  school  and  stood  at  the  shoulder  of  his  grown 
cousin,  —  the  young  man  with  the  silky  shadow  just  dark- 
ening his  upper  lip,  and  with  the  clear  frank  eyes  of  a 
bo}',  who  looked  so  eagerl}^  forward  into  the  active  life  of 
manhood,  restive  under  the  restraints  and  cautions  that 
hampered  him,  until  at  last  he  broke  away,  and  was  no 
more  seen,  nor  scarcely  heard  of,  until  the  news  of  his 
early  and  violent  death  came  to  cast  an  unending  gloom 
over  the  household,  which  before  had  been  captious,  fore- 
boding, but  ever  loving,  ever  secretly  proud  of  the  bold, 
irrepressible  spirit  it  could  not  chain  to  its  standard  of 
decorum,  or  tame  to  walk  in  the  narrow  path  of  unevent- 
ful and  passionless  existence.  The  3'ears  of  his  own 
youth  he  passel  lightl}'  by ;  there  was  nothing  in  them 
for  comment  until  he  came  to  the  time  of  his  a.mt's  death, 
his  inheritance  of  the  fortune  that  should  have  been  John 
Ashley's,  the  reading  of  those  few  letters  which  had  given 

22 


fl! 


'1    r'/ 


r 


u 


338 


CHATA   AND   CHINTTA. 


\  i 


■<  ,!  -I*'  ^ 


P-i^ 


to  Mary  Ashley  such  strange  dreams,  and  which  in  the 
re-reading  had  filled  his  mind  with  thoughts  of  the  same 
possibilities  that  racked  her  own.  He  8i)oke  of  them 
briefly  in  a  single  sentence :  "  We  found  by  his  letters 
that  he  believed  himself  married ;  it  was  to  find  the 
woman  he  had  loved,  or  any  trace  of  her,  that  1  came." 

Chinita  sat  so  still  one  might  have  doubted  if  she 
heard ;  but  that  very  stillness  convinced  Asiiley  that  she 
listened  with  an  absorbing  interest,  too  great  for  ques- 
tioning. She  could  but  wait  breatlilessly  for  what  was 
to  come. 

"After  long  and  vexatious  wanderings  I  was  taken 
wounded  to  Tres  Hermanos,"  continued  the  3'oung  man. 
"There,  when  my  hope  was  almost  exhausted,  I  heard 
the  name  that  had  been  in  my  mind  so  long,  —  heard  it 
only  to  make  inquiries  which  ended  in  confusion,  and 
threatened  to  involve  me  in  endless  complications ;  so 
at  last  I  was  glad  to  sullcr  myself  to  be  convinced  that 
my  conjectures  were  the  mere  vagaries  of  an  overbur- 
dened fancy,  a  too  scrupulous  conscience,  and  to  turn  my 
face  homeward,  determined  that  thereafter  I  would  live 
my  life,  and  take  in  peace  the  goods  fortune  sent  me. 
In  such  a  mind  I  rode  with  the  troop  across  the  plain 
and  up  the  desolate  hillside,  along  which  the  scattered 
graves  of  the  poor  lay,  the  mounds  scarce  noticeable 
among  the  rocks  and  cacti.  Pepe  remembered  3'our  jest- 
ing command  ;  it  would  give  him  an  opportunity  to  with- 
draw from  the  troops  unheeded.  He  invited  me  to  go 
with  him  to  see  something  that  would  interest  me.  When 
I  saw  the  grave,  my  heart  began  to  beat ;  when  I  read 
the  name  upon  the  fallen  cross,  the  blood  rushed  into  my 
eyes  and  suffocated  me ;  every  drop  in  m}'  heart  accused 
me  I  There  lay  my  cousin  murdered,  and  in  looking  for 
a  possible  claimant  to  his  name,  I  had  forgotten  him ! 
I  had  forgotten  that  his  death  was  still  unatoncd  for, 
the  murderer  undiscovered,  unsought,  unpunished." 

Chinita  dropped  her  hand  from  her  face  and  looked  up, 
her  eyes  glowing,  her  lips  apart,  her  bosom  rising  and 
falling  with  the  quick  breath  that  came  and  went.  Here 
were  words  she  could  understand  ;  here  was  a  spirit  that 
touched  her  own. 

"And  then,   then,   then?"   she  muttered;   and  Pepo 


-Ifil 


CIIATA   AND  CIJINITA 


339 


yhich  in  the 
of  the  same 
)ko  of  them 
y  his  letters 
to  find  the 
it  1  came." 
,ubted  if  she 
'nley  that  she 
cat  for  qncs- 
for  what  was 

I  was  tahen 
c  young  roan, 
.isted,  1  heard 
ncr,— heard  it 
jonfusion,   and 
iipUcations;  so 
convinced  that 
of  an  overbur- 
and  to  turn  my 
2r  I  would  live 
kune  sent  me. 
vcross  the  plam 
■h  the  scatterert 
iarce  noticeable 
3cred  vour  jcst- 
»vtunity  to  with- 
itcd  me  to  go 
:restme.    When 
■vt ;  when  I  read 
h  rushed  into  my 
\^  licart  accused 
d  in  looking  f<'V 
\  forgotten  hnu! 
|iU  unatoncd  for, 
ipunished." 
hc  and  looked  up, 
Lsom  rising  and 
and  went.     Her^ 
was  a  spirit  that 

bered;  and  Pcp6 


leaned  out  from  the  wall,  like  a  gaimt  slmdow,  to  hear  the 
narration,  as  if  every  word  was  too  significant  to  allow  a 
single  one  to  escape  him.     "Then?" 

'•  Then,"  resumed  Ashley,  "  1  seemed  chained  to  the 
spot.  1  could  not  tear  myself  away,  though  reason  told 
me  that  to  stay  there  was  useless ;  to  hasten  forward  and 
demand  the  truth  from  those  1  had  hitherto  shrunk  from 
ort'euding,  the  only  course  open  to  me.  Reason  as  1 
would,  1  could  not  force  myself  to  leave  the  spot.  After 
a  time,  yieldiug  to  necessity  and  to  mj'  command,  l*epc 
left  me.  I  was  alone  for  hours  with  the  dead.  My  mind 
was  full  of  him  ;  I  heard  his  voice  ;  I  looked  into  the  eyes 
which  death  had  closed  for  so  manj'  unregarded  years. 
I  saw  before  mo  that  face  which  I  had  so  long  forgotten  ; 
but  my  fancy  pictured  him  never  as  in  life,  gay,  happy, 
resolute,  but  pale,  bloody,  corpse-like,  stretching  out 
dead  hands  to  me  and  speaking  with  the  soundless  voice 
of  those  we  dream  of.  Who  remembers  the  tone  of  a 
voice,  silent  forever?  Yet  it  echoes  in  our  heart;  it 
awakens  our  joys,  our  griefs,  our  fears ;  it  is  more  pow- 
erful, more  terrible,  than  an}'  living  voice.  And  so  upon 
that  day  was  the  \oicc  of  the  ilead  John  Ashley  to  me. 
As  I  listened  to  it,  I  swore  never  to  leave  Mexico  until 
the  mystery  of  his  death,  as  well  as  that  of  his  life,  was 
open  to  me  ;  until  I  had  called  to  account  the  villain  who 
had  cut  him  off  so  secretly,  so  vilel3\ 

"  While  I  was  full  of  the  thought,  and  the  whole  world 
around  me  seemed  to  stretch  on  every  side  silent,  void, 
waiting  for  me  to  choose  whither  I  would  go,  in  what  di- 
rection I  would  set  out  to  seek  the  nameless  object  of  the 
new  absorbing  passion,  which  seemed  more  vital,  more  es- 
sential to  my  being  than  the  air  I  breathed,  I  felt  a  pres- 
ence near  me.  I  looked  up,  —  a  man  was  leaning  over  the 
wall.  I  instantl}'  conjectured  hc  was  not  the  mere  peasant 
his  dress  indicated.  A  sense  of  mysterious  connection 
between  his  life  and  mine  seized  u[)on  mo ;  it  strength- 
ened as  he  crossed  the  wall  and  strode  toward  me  over 
the  sunken  graves.  He  came  as  though  under  a  spell ;  I 
looked  upon  him  as  if  under  the  fascination  of  a  serpent- 
like gaze.  I  recoiled,  yet  for  worlds  I  would  not  have 
turned  from  him.  His  eyes  fell  upon  the  cross  ;  the  expres- 
sion of  his  face,  the  words  thai,  sprang  from  his  lips,  — 


i 

^11 

'ii 

^1 

'  $  V 

f  1 

:=l 

■pm«H 


it' 


340 


CITATA   AND   CmNITA. 


vague  though  they  were,  —  sped  to  my  brain  with  an  clec- 
ric  thrill.  1  knew  the  man  before  me  was  John  Ashley's 
murderer." 

Chinitii  had  risen.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  and 
toueluid  the  hilt  of  the  knife  in  Ashley's  belt.  It  was  the 
action  of  a  moment,  yet  it  was  a  question  that  the  quick 
beating  of  her  Iicart  and  the  panting  breath  made  at  the 
instant  impossible  from  her  lips.  Ashley  answered  it  by 
a  brief  account  of  the  combat  and  its  interruption. 

As  he  ended,  she  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  It  did 
not  occur  to  him  that  it  could  be  for  any  other  than  him- 
self. It  flattered  and  pleased  him,  for  an  instant  he  real- 
ized how  deeply,  as  having  in  it  something  of  the  tender 
unreasoning  fears  of  gentle  womanhood.  Yet  the  readi- 
ness with  which  she  had  comprehended  his  passion  for 
revenge,  while  it  justified  him,  had  set  her  in  a  harsh  and 
cruel  aspect,  which  made  her  lithe,  dark  beauty  forbid- 
ding, unrelenting,  tiger-like.  Yet  this  strange  young 
creature,  he  thought,  at  once  so  foreign  to  him,  and 
still  so  lear,  concealed  after  all,  under  the  surface  of  in- 
comprehensible moods  and  half  barbaric  customs,  those 
attributes  of  gentleness,  those  instincts  of  justness,  which 
amidst  the  perplexing  differences  of  national  manners 
and  standards  of  good  and  evil  may  be  distinguished 
and  understood  by  every  mind.  At  that  moment  Ashley 
felt  her  to  be  less  an  alien  than  he  had  ever  been  able 
before  to  consider  her.  She  was  not  oniy  beautiful,  be- 
witching, but  in  part,  at  least,  comprehensible. 

Chinita  stood  silent  for  many  moments ;  she  had  not 
even  started  when  he  spoke  the  name  Ramirez.  The  per- 
sonality of  the  man  of  whom  he  had  spoken  had  been  a 
foregone  conclusion  in  her  mind. 

"It  was  the  amulet  I  gave  him  that  saved  him,"  she 
said  simpl}-^ ;  and  Ashley  stared  at  her  blankl}',  not  com- 
prehending the  meaning  of  her  words,  but  only  that  the 
relief  she  had  experienced  had  been  rather  for  the  aggres- 
sor than  for  him.  Had  he  then  been  mistaken?  Was 
she  an  entire  stranger  to  the  thought  which  so  permeated 
his  own  mind  that  he  had  imagined  it  must  be  present  in 
hers? 

"  Yes,  the  amulet  that  I  gave  him  must  have  all  the  vir- 
tues Pedro  told  me  of,"  she  said  musingly.    *'  So  it  was 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


341 


vith  an  clcc- 
,Un  Ashley's 

;r  hand  and 
\  It  was  the 
lat  the  quiek 
V  made  at  the 
iswcrcd  it  hy 
)tion. 

relief.    It  did 
iicr  than  him- 
istant  he  rcal- 
of  the  tender 
Yet  the  readi- 
is  passion  for 
in  a  harsh  and 
beauty  forbid- 
strange  young 
a  to  him,  and 
i  surface  of  in- 
customs,  those 
instness,  which 
tional  manners 
e  distinguished 
moment  Ashley 
ever  been  able 
iy  beautiful,  be- 

fible.  ,       . 

Is ;  she  had  not 
lirez.  Theper- 
>kcn  had  been  a 

saved  him,"  she 
knkly,  not  cora- 
lut  onlv  that  the 
Ir  for  the  aggrcs- 
tiistaken?  Wa^ 
lich  so  permeated 
ast  be  present  m 

have  all  the  vir- 
rly.    *'  So  it  was 


the  General  Ramirez  who  killed  the  American?  Uios 
mio  I  he  must  have  had  good  cause ;  yet  it  angers  me. 
Ah !  it  is  well  I  have  time  to  think  what  cause  he  must 
have  had ! " 

"  Cause  !"  ejaculated  Ashley,  **  cause  ! " 

The  girl  nodded  her  head  in  an  argumentative  way.  In 
the  dim  light  Ashley  could  read  tlie  struggle  in  lier  mind, 
—  indignation  at  the  deed,  dismay  at  its  consequences, 
battling  with  attempted  justification  of  the  perpetrator. 
"  B}'  my  patron  saint!"  she  exclaimed  at  length,  "it 
was  the  woman  who  was  to  blame.  Wh>  ild  she  torture 
him?  He  must  have  loved  her;  and  what  was  there  in 
the  American  to  make  her  false  to  Kamirez?  Strange 
she  should  have  preferred  another  to  him  !  " 

"  For  God's  sake  say  no  more  !  "  cried  Ashley,  with 
actual  horror  in  his  voice.  "  I  forgot  that  this  tale  has 
no  deeper  significance  to  you  than  any  other ;  that  the 
American  is  to  you  simply  an  American,  and  Kamirez 
the  i  ^ro  of  your  own  countrymen,  by  whose  desperate 
deeds  your  imagination  is  dazzled,  and  for  whom,  even  in 
the  midst  of  horror,  30U  find  excuse,  admiration,  justifica- 
tion. To  you  he  seems  but  a  jealous  lover,  taking  just 
revenge  upon  a  successful  rival." 

Chinita  spoke  not  a  word,  but  bent  her  head  as  though 
his  words  were  an  accusation.  Iler  lace,  in  the  dim  light, 
was  so  impassive  it  was  impossible  for  Ashley  to  conjecture 
what  was  passing  in  her  mind.  Did  she  remember  that 
lie  had  said  he  had  come  to  seek  a  child,  and  was  it  possi- 
ble that  the  mystery  of  her  own  birth  had  not  suggested 
to  her  that  she  might  have  an  interest  in  the  ghastl^^  deed 
of  Ramirez  far  deeper  than  would  make  natural  or  possi- 
ble to  her  the  excuse  of  jealousy  in  the  perpetrator?  He 
had  learned  something  of  the  reticence  and  self-restraint 
of  these  people  since  he  had  come  among  them  ;  yet  was  it 
possible  this  young  girl  could  suspend  judgment  in  such 
a  cause  until  her  own  relation  to  it  was  full}'  ascertained? 
Were  prejudice,  education,  sentiment,  so  much  stronger 
than  the  voice  of  Nature?  Did  no  instinct  cry  in  her 
heart,  denouncing  this  man,  of  whom  she  had  made  a 
hero,  —  no  womanly  pit}'  hover  over  his  victim?  AVluit  a 
ready  apprehension  she  had  shown  of  Ashley's  own  desire 
for  vengeance !    Was  that  simply  because  it  was  the  pas- 


li 


S 


:^1' 


■-^issastmim 


342 


CIIATA   AND  ClIINITA. 


\m\\n 


f 


:;    !•■ 


11'-=  1 


IIH 


Bion  strongest  in  her  own  soul,  and  so  gave  to  her  re:uly 
excuse  even  for  murder? 

Under  the  moonlight  it  seemed  to  him  that  tlie  young 
girl's  face  grew  hard  as  marble.  No,  she  was  not  one  to 
yield  her  faith  lightly.  This  deed,  which  had  tilled  the 
mind  of  Chata  with  disma}',  and  intensified  a  thousand-fold 
tlie  horror  in  wliich  she  held  the  character  of  the  man  whom 
slie  believed  it  sin  not  to  reverence  and  love,  would  in  no 
wise  shako  the  faith  and  admiration  of  this  stronger  soul, 
who  could  condone  it  with  the  thought  that  a  woman 
had  played  the  murderer  fidsc. 

*'  Yet  with  all  this,  Senor,"  she  said  at  length,  looking 
up,  "if  you  have  no  more  to  tell  me,  I  sec  not  why  this 
should  turn  me  against  the  Seiior  General.  For  you  it  is 
different  —  oh,  quite  different ;  but  for  me,  — "  She  paused 
suddenly,  and  Ashley  saw  that  the  hand  which  hung  at 
her  side  was  clenched  till  the  nails  marked  her  flesh. 

Yes,  the  deed  itself  was  nothing,  — a  trifle,  at  most,  — 
but  in  its  relation  to  her,  how  great,  how  terrible,  it  might 
become ! 

Ashlc}'  was  not  deceived.  He  felt  that  hy  a  word  he  might 
fan  into  a  resistless  flame  the  fire  that  lay  smouldering  in 
that  resolute  heart,  —  a  word  which  would  be  no  surprise 
to  her,  which  would  but  confirm  the  conviction  against 
which,  in  loyalty  to  Ramirez,  she  struggled  with  even  a 
certain  anger  against  the  persistent  suspicion  that  made 
the  legendary  and  unheroic  figure  of  the  American  a  mute 
denouncer,  more  i)owerful,  more  persuasive,  than  the  liv- 
ing man  who  had  revealed  the  author  of  the  tragedy 
which  through  all  her  life  had  been  so  dark  a  mystery. 
It  seemed  to  Ashley  that  she  held  her  breath  to  listen  to 
his  next  words  ;  but  he  could  be  as  hard  as  she  was  herself 
to  tliis  girl,  whose  heart  seemed  incapable  of  feeling  aught 
but  a  personal  injury,  or  any  i)assion  but  revenge. 

"Senorita,"  he  said,  "1  went  back  to  the  hacienda. 
]My  horse  had  fled  ;  there  Avas  nothing  else  forme  to  do,  if 
1  would  find  means  to  follow  this  num  who  had  suddenly 
become  my  debtor  in  all  the  dues  of  outraged  kinship. 
]My  object  was  to  obtain  money,  a  horse  and  guide,  and 
to  regain  the  troop  as  quickly  as  should  be  possible ;  to 
denounce  this  murderer  to  Doiia  Isabel,  and  reveal  the 
plot  against  her  interests  which  had  appeared  to  me  so 


Hi 


!|il! 


CI/ATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


343 


weak,  so  absolutely  absurd,  but  whiuli  now  assumed  an 
importance  coiuuiensurate  with  my  detestation  of  him 
wiiom  it  was  designed  to  serve.  IJut  with  I'lU'tiier  thouj^ht 
my   resolution   changed.      If  all  her  agents  were   false, 

—  Pedro,  Kuiz,  as  well  as  you,  whom  1  know  to  be  " 
(Cliinita  winced), — "and  Pepe  should  be  successful  in 
inducing  Pedro  to  play  into  tlie  hands  of  Ramirez,  what 
power  could  Dona  Isabel  employ  to  prevent  that  change 
of  leadershi[)  which  it  was  more  than  probable  the  troops 

—  indilferent  to  the  cause,  eager  only  fr*:'  action  and 
booty  —  would  a'cccpt  with  acclamations?  Clearly,  n>y 
only  course  was  to  proceed  to  El  Toro  and  ai-ouse  the 
too  confident  Gonzales,  who  in  incomprehensible  inactivity 
was  awaiting  the  promised  succor,  —  incomprehensible  if 
the  emissaries  of  Dona  Isabel  had  reached  him ;  for,  as  I 
knew,  not  one  word  in  reply  had  been  returned. 

*'  I  had  much  to  ask  of  Dona  Isabel  Garcia,  —  questions 
which  had  burned  upon  my  lips  before ;  but  reflection 
told  me  I  was  no  more  readv  to  ask  them  now  than  I  had 
been  ;  that  her  pride  might  be  still  as  obdurate.  No,  there 
were  months  before  me  in  which  by  gradual  assault  I 
might  acquire  all  the  knowledge  I  would  in  vain  endeavor 
to  gain  b}'  sudden  force.  I  was  confident  that  if  by  no 
stratagem  or  treason  Itamirez  ultimately  could  place  him- 
self at  the  head  of  these  troops,  he  would  be  found  in  the 
Held  against  them.  I  learned  that  he  hated  Gonzales  as  a 
personal,  no  less  than  a  political,  foe.  (Gonzales  then  was 
the  man  for  me  to  follow.  In  serving  Dona  Isabel  against 
the  machinations  of  those  she  had  so  blindly  trusted,  I 
should  serve  myself;  keep  in  view  the  mocking  fiend 
whose  downfall  1  had  sworn,  and  perchance  satisfy  my- 
self in  regard  to  tlu;  still  importunate  doubts  which  had 
led  to  my  presence  amid  these  strange  scenes. 

"  I  had  intended  to  leave  the  hacienda  upon  the  very 
night  of  my  return,  but  on  m^'  way —  AVell,  that  is  noth- 
ing to  the  purpose ;  I  reached  it  exhausted.  But  the 
early  morning  found  me  in  the  saddle.  ^ly  strength  re- 
vived with  every  step  toward  El  Toro.  Once  we  caught 
sight  of  the  long  line  of  the  hacienda  troop  crossing  the 
0|jcn  plain.  We  had  passed  through  canons  and  byways, 
and  were  far  in  advance  of  them.  More  than  once  in  the 
mountains  we  heard  the  name  of  Ramirez,  and  made  wide 


h  L 


i 


1;  ! 


li 


^m 


344 


CIIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


detours  of  hamlt'ts  where  men  were  gathering  in  twos 
and  threes  and  sixes,  —  ragged,  unkempt,  unarmed  for  the 
most  part,  but  full  of  enthusiasm  in  their  leader,  and  conll- 
dent  of  booty  and  glory.  Without  doubt,  the  reverse  of 
Kauiirez  at  El  Tore  would  not  remain  unavenged.  I  real- 
ized the  spell  of  that  potent  name,  the  very  eelio  of  which 
seemed  to  be  as  eloquent  as  the  living  voice  of  most  men, 
cliiellains  and  leaders  though  they  might  be." 

Chinita's  eyes  glistened  ;  she  raised  herself  with  a  proud 
gesture,  as  if  the  involuntary  tribute  to  the  genius  of  the 
adventurer  was  a  personal  eommendatioif. 

"  Though  we  avoided  the  villages,"  continued  Ashle}', 
"  I  did  not  hesitate  to  question  the  few  passengers  we  met 
upon  the  roads.  These  were  chie(l3'  wandering  traders, 
stooping  under  their  burdens  of  cla3'-ware  or  charcoal,  ad- 
herents of  no  particular  party,  and  reticent  or  the  opposite, 
as  their  natural  impulses  or  the  supposed  necessities  of  the 
time  prompted.  These  I  plied  in  vain  for  news  of  Pedro, 
of  Pepe,  or  even  of  the  noted  Ramirez  himself.  Each  and 
every  one  seemed  to  have  passed,  and  left  not  even  a  mem- 
ory behind  ;  though  from  these  vcrj'  ranchos  and  hamlets  I 
knew  Dona  Isabel's  troops  had  been  drawn,  and  that  the 
followers  of  Ramirez  were  daily  drawing  more,  —  forcing 
those  they  could  not  persuade,  laughing  at  the  protestations 
of  the  women,  and  feeding  the  adventurous  ardor  of  the  men 
with  talcs  of  daring  exploits  and  promises  of  plunder.  All 
this  we  heard,  and  knew  the  whole  country  was  in  a  fer- 
ment, yet  passed  through  it  undetected,  on  our  own  part 
unable  to  catch  a  glimpse  or  hear  a  word  of  the  covert 
from  which  Ramirez  directed  and  inspired  the  movement. 
Travelling  rapidly,  we  entered  upon  the  third  day  a  deep 
gorge,  which  cut  the  foothills  of  the  ver}'  mountain  that 
overshadowed  the  towers  of  the  convent  town  toward  which 
I  was  journeying.  Still  a  painful  stretch  of  twelve  hours, 
of  an  almost  pathless  labyrinth  of  rock  and  sand,  I  was 
told,  lay  before  us ;  and  early  in  the  evi  ing  I  ordered  a 
halt,  intending  to  set  forth  before  the  day  broke.  One  of 
my  servants  spoke  of  a  spring  which  he  knew  of;  and 
though  the  season  was  so  dry  that  we  had  little  hope  of 
discovering  it,  we  decided  to  push  on,  although  at  every 
step  the  horses  seemed  to  protest  against  the  effort,  —  for 
they  hud  been  ridden   mercilessly,  without  change  and 


C/fATA   AMD   CniNITA. 


345 


ig  in  twos 
Luctl  lor  tho 
•,  ami  con  11- 
rcversc  of 
cd.  1  rcal- 
iio  of  wUieli 
f  most  men, 

ivith  a  proud 
;cnius  of  tUo 

lued  Ashley, 
jgers  we  met 
ling  traders, 
charcoal,  ad- 
thc  opposite, 
cssities  of  tho 
iws  of  Pedro, 
If.    Each  and 
t  even  a  niem- 
and  hamlets  I 
and  that  the 
M-e,  —  forcing 
protestations 
or  of  the  men 
jlunder.    All 
was  in  a  fer- 
our  own  part 
of  the  covert 
ic  movement, 
rd  day  a  deep 
mountain  that 
I  toward  which 
twelve  hours, 
_l  sand,  I  was 
ng  I  ordered  a 
>wkc.     One  of 
knew  of;   and 
.  little  hope  of 
ough  at  every 
le  crtbrt,  — for 
it  change  and 


1 


I 


almost  without  food  or  rest.  As  we  neared  the  spot  whero 
we  hoped  to  Ihul  water,  tho  aspect  of  the  country  seemed 
to  grow  even  more  forbidding. 

'' '  Tiie  dry  season  has  swallowed  it,'  said  tho  servant 
dejectedly,  after  a  careful  survey  of  the  locality.  *  There 
is  nothing  here  but  sand,  —  a  dry  welcome  for  our  thirsty 
beasts ; '  and  at  a  signal  from  me  he  threw  himself  from 
tho  saddle,  and  tethering  his  panting  horse,  clambered  up 
the  gorge  t«)  gather  a  handful  of  dry  grease-wood  with 
which  to  light  a  (ire.  Meanwhile,  his  fellow  busied  himself 
in  unpacking  the  few  articles  we  had  brought,  and  1  threw 
myself  on  the  ground  against  a  rock,  feeling  myself  more 
secure  in  that  wild  and  secluded  pass  than  I  had  dene 
since  I  left  the  hacienda. 

'*  The  place  was  very  still.  Although  it  was  yet  day- 
light in  the  world  without,  the  whole  gorge  was  in  shadow. 
The  crackling  of  the  herbage  under  the  horses'  feet,  or  a 
low  word  occasionally  spoken  by  the  men,  was  all  that 
broke  the  stillness.  1  suj^pose  from  thought  I  was  gradu- 
ally falling  into  slumber,  when  the  sound  of  horses  gallop- 
ing, of  men  laughing  and  shouting,  broke  upon  the  air.  I 
started  to  my  feet  and  seized  m^'  arms,  calling  for  tho 
men ;  but  they  had  disappeared ;  the  three  horses  were 
rearing  and  plunging.  1  caught  and  succeeded  in  mount- 
ing my  own ;  but  as  the  cavalcade  drew  near,  I  realized 
that  its  members  were  so  numerous  and  in  such  mad  humor 
that  it  would  be  worse  than  folly  for  mo  to  approach  them. 
One  pf  m}-^  men  had  recovered  from  his  panic,  and  stole 
up  to  me  with  blanched  face  and  wide-staring  eyes.  I 
pointed  to  the  horses,  and  with  wonderful  dexterity  ho 
bounded  into  the  saddle  of  one,  and  caught  the  bridle  of 
the  other.  In  as  little  time  as  it  takes  me  to  tell  it,  we 
gained  the  shelter  of  the  rock.  Calmed  by  a  few  low 
words,  the  horses  stood  motionless,  and  from  our  covert 
we  saw  the  company  of  lawless  soldiery  go  b}-. 

"  Ramirez  was  at  their  head  ;  and  by  a  cord  at  his  bridle- 
rein  was  tied  a  man,  who  vainly  strove  to  keep  pace  with  tho 
gallop  of  his  horse.  At  almost  every  step  he  fell,  and  was 
struck  by  the  hoofs  of  the  foremost  horses,  whose  riders 
leaning  down  brought  him  again  to  his  feet  with  blows  from 
the  Hat  sides  of  their  swords.  Tliere  wore  perhaps  thirty 
rulliaus  engaged  in  this  brutal  sport ;  aad  after  them  ran 


1? 


0, 


H  . 


346 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


,s*. 


Iff',: 


>■"  ■■)  f  i 


li 


a  man  at  such  a  pace  as  only  an  Indian  could  maintain, 
even  for  moments,  wringing  his  hands  and  praying  and 
crying,  —  alternately'  a  prayer  and  a  cuise.  And  in  him, 
more  by  his  voice,  gasping  and  hoarse  thougt^it  was,  than 
by  sight,  I  recognized  Pepe  Ortiz." 

Chinita  would  have  screamed,  but  the  ready  hand  of  the 
peasant  closed  over  her  mouth.  "  The  man  !  the  man  tied 
to  the  horse's  rein !  "  she  gasped,  when  he  released  her. 

"  I  could  not  see  his  face,  and  he  had  no  breath  to  cry 
out,"  said  Ashley.  "  They  passed  so  closely,  1  could  have 
shot  Ramirez  like  a  dog.  But  I  seemed  paralyzed  by 
horror.  It  did  for  me  what  perhaps  a  moment's  reflection 
would  have  done  had  I  been  capable  of  it,  —  it  saved  me 
from  suicide.  To  have  moved  then  would  have  been  cer- 
tain death.  I  could  not  comprehend  the  mad  jests  of 
those  around  the  victim ;  but  a  moment  after  they  passed  I 
heard  a  sound  which  to  all  ears  conveys  the  same  meaning, 
—  a  pistol  shot,  —  and  the  voice  of  Ramirez  crying,  — 

"  '  Carambal  the  next  fall  would  have  killed  him,  and 
the  dog  should  die  only  by  my  hand.  There  !  I  have  paid 
the  debt  1  owed  thee,  —  thou  knowest  for  what.  It  should 
have  been  paid  thee  like  the  other  villain's  3'ears  ago. 
Would  that  I  had  dragged  him  at  my  horse's  rein  as 
I  have  thee ! ' 

"  The  man  fell ;  a  soldier,  with  a  laugh,  cut  the  rope  ; 
nil  swept  on  with  shouts  and  laughter,  —  Ramirez  the 
([uietcst  among  them.  In  a  few  minutes  they  were  far  up 
the  gorge.  One  glance  had  satisfied  Ramirez  that  his  shot 
had  reached  its  aim. 

"■  None  seemed  to  remember  the  panting  wretch  behind. 
I  had  reached  the  prostrate  body  as  soon  as  he,  and  together 
we  raised  it  up.  Under  the  mask  of  bruises  and  blood 
and  the  dust  of  the  roadway,  I  recognized  the  man  I  had 
been  seeking, — Podro  Gomez." 

IVpu  caught  Chinita  on  his  outstretched  arm,  —  she  had 
staggered  as  though  struck  by  a  heavy  blow.  Ashley 
s[)rang  to  her  side  in  remorse,  —  ho  had  spared  her  noth- 
ing in  the  recital ;  but  she  had  not  fainted.  She  raised 
herself  slowly,  and  lifting  her  arms  above  her  head,  wrung 
her  hands  in  speechless  agony. 

The  man  who  had  been  murdered  years  before  had  boon 
a  shadow,  a  myth,  in  her  mind.     Ue  became  at  that  su- 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


3-47 


prcmc  moment  a  living  presence,  joining  with,  blent  with, 
the  martyred  Pedro  in  denunciation  of  the  man  whom 
she  had  raised  in  her  admiration  to  a  pinnacle  of  glorj-. 
The  idol  of*years  crashed  to  the  earth,  in  semblance  of 
a  demon,  —  and  with  it  fell  the  stoicism  and  pride  that 
had  encased  as  in  bands  of  steel  the  softer  emotions  of 
her  nature. 

"Murdered!  murdered  both!"  she  moaned  at  length. 
"  Was  it  not  enough  he  should  bereave  me  even  before  I 
came  into  the  world,  but  that  he  should  so  vilely  slay  the 
only  creature  who  has  loved  me  ?  Oh,  my  God !  "  she 
added,  shuddering,  "  why  have  I  been  so  cursed  as  to  have 
given  one  thought  to  such  a  wretch  ?  Oh  1  forgive,  forgive, 
forgive ! " 


I 


% 


if 


1. 


9..: 


m 


l^- 


XXXVI. 


To  whom  was  that  vain  cry  addressed  ?  Ashley  ques- 
tioned not,  but  clasping  in  his  the  icy  hands  which  strove  to 
smite  and  beat  each  other,  spoke  such  words  of  soothing 
as  came  readiest  in  the  stranger  tongue  he  found  so  inade- 
quate. He  reaUzed  that  it  was  not  to  him  Chinita  directed 
that  wail  of  self-abasement  and  remorse ;  and  he  also  ap- 
prehended somewhat  of  the  wild  joy  that  would  have  been 
his,  had  she  involuntarily  turned  to  him  in  the  anguish  of 
her  desolation.  But  she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  his  pre- 
sence, and  in  her  frenzy — terrible  to  witness,  though  it  was 
not  loud  —  even  Pepe's  rough  accents  were  unheeded. 

"  JV'ina  of  my  soul !  "  he  said  earnestly,  "  Pedro  is  not 
dead.  No,  it  is  not  a  lie  I  tell  thee !  Who  would  lie  to 
thee  in  such  an  hour  as  this  ?  I  have  come  to  tell  thee 
that  he  lives ;  't  was  he  himself  who  sent  me." 

"He  himself!"  she  echoed  at  last,  turning  her  wild, 
tearless  e3'es  upon  Pepe's  face.  "  Ah,  it  is  because  thou 
art  here  that  I  know  he  is  dead,  else  thou  wouldst  not 
dare  to  leave  him ! " 

"  And  by  my  faith,  it  is  not  of  my  o'vn  will  I  am  here  !  " 
answered  Pepe,  bluntly.  "  Seiior  Don  'Guardo,  you  can 
tell  her  that." 

"  I  can  in  truth,"  replied  Ashley,  who  seeing  that  the 
peasant's  words  were  received  by  hef  but  as  mere  attempts 
to  defer  the  evil  moment  when  the  inevitable  assurance  of 
the  death  of  her  foster-father  must  be  given  her,  —  so 
well  did  she  know  the  customs  and  manners  of  her  coun- 
try people,  ever  prone  to  useless  prevarication,  even  in 
their  deepest  sorrow,  —  hastened  to  describe  to  her  tlie 
few  scant  means  they  had  found  in  his  extremitj'  to  re- 
call the  exhausted  Pedro  to  the  life  that  had  apparently 
been  thrust  and  beaten  and  driven  from  him  forever. 

The  ball  of  the  pistol  had  but  grazed  the  cheek  of  the 
tortured  man ;  the  blood  and  dust  hud  deceived  the  ac- 


CHATA   AND  CHINTTA. 


349 


ciistomod  oj'cs  of  Ramirez,  as  it  had  deceived  their  own. 
The  greater  danger  arose  from  the  frightful  condition  of 
laceration  and  fatigue  to  which  the  mad  race  through  the 
ston}'  canon  had  reduced  him. 

In  a  few  words  Pepe  told  the  tale.  He  and  Pedro  had 
met  but  the  da}'  before,  and  it  was  while  hastening  to  1^1 
Toro  to  apprize  Gonzales  of  the  plot  that  Pepe,  in  the 
petition  of  Chinita,  had  revealed  to  the  indignant  Pedro, 
that  they  had  encountered  face  to  face  the  irate  chieftain 
and  his  followers.  Pepe  understood  little  of  the  cause 
that  led  to  their  being  seized,  dragged  from  their  horses, 
and  threatened  with  instant  death.  Both  aHke  protested 
innocence  of  any  scheme  to  baffle  or  injure  the  mountain 
chieftain ;  but  he  understood  too  well  the  ease  with  which 
a  foe  too  weak  to  fight  could  assume  the  aspect  of  a  friend. 
At  the  worst,  however,  Pepe  imagined  they  might  be 
forced  to  turn  back  on  their  way  to  spend  a  few  unwilling 
hours  among  the  bandit  followers,  until  chance  should 
give  them  opportunity  to  escape.  But  Ramirez's  memory 
was  keen  as  it  was  vengeful.  Suddenly  he  bent  and  gazed 
searchingly  into  the  face  of  the  elder  prisoner. 

*'Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  with  an  oath,  "I  know  thee! 
Thou  art  Pedro  Gomez." 

Pedro,  who  till  this  moment  had  bent  his  head  to  avoid 
the  gaze  of  his  captors,  raised  it  swiftly  with  an  ejacula- 
tion of  amazement.  A  red  handkerchief  bound  the  brows 
of  Ramirez ;  his  face  was  swarthy  and  grimed  with  hard 
riding. 

"Ah,  and  thou  knowQst  me,  too!"  Ramirez  cried. 
*'  Thou  hast  called  me  a  devil  more  than  once  in  thy  life- 
time ;  and  now  I  will  prove  thy  word  true.  Hereafter 
thou  wilt  have  no  further  chance  for  that,  or  for  open- 
ing the  gate  to  the  man  who  would  make  mj'  — "  He 
gnashed  his  teeth  in  speechless  rage,  and  with  his  sword 
struck  the  keeper  across  the  face. 

The  action  spoke  louder  than   words.     Some  one,  in 


ready  comprehension  of  the  loader's  mood,  threw  a  lasso, 
and  catching  the  prisoner  across  the  breast  began  to 
mimic  the  wild  shouts  of  a  bull-fighter.  But  Ramirez  was 
in  no  humor  for  pastime. 

"On!  on!"  he  cried.     '"Tis  nearly  sunset.     Let  us 
see  how  far  on  our  way  this  fellow  can  accompany  us 


lilH 

^■f 

if^H 

^^H 

'^''^1 

H 

't  ^^9 

■^1 

1 

t^ri! 


ha 


i  >;i! 


iJI'     ! 
ill!  ..; 


u 


W 

hi  I  ■ 


m 


350 


Cf/ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


till  then ;  and  then  by  a  vow  I  made  to  mj'  patron  San 
Lconidas,  more  than  a  score  of  years  ago,  he  shall  die, 
Caramha!  did  ever  man  play  Ramirez  false,  and  he  forget 
to  paj'  him  his  dues  ?  " 

Pepc,  amid  the  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  band,  heard 
these  words  \v  ith  a  wild  sense  of  teri'or ;  but  it  was  only 
when  he  beheld  Pedro  struggling  at  the  side  of  the  plung- 
ing horse,  that  he  realized  that  the  gate-keeper  was  to  1)0 
dragged  to  his  death.  He  had  heard  of  Ramirez's  wild 
jests,  and  imagined  that  this  might  be  one,  until  he  be- 
held the  cortege  speeding  forward,  urging  the  unhappy 
Pedro  before  them  with  blows  and  jeers,  or  exhibiting 
their  wonderful  horsemanship  in  evading  his  prostrate 
body,  —  which,  however,  more  than  once,  as  he  fell, 
sounded  under  the  thud  of  the  horses'  feet. 

Pepc  could  have  escaped  at  any  moment,  for  in  the  con- 
centration of  attention  upon  Pedro  his  companion  had 
been  utterly  forgotten ;  but  he  followed  madly,  expostu- 
lating, entreating,  cursing,  while  his  breath  allowed ;  and 
then  was  swei)t  onward  in  the  whirl,  seemingly  almost 
unconscious,  till  he  heard  the  shot  that  ended  ths  mad 
scene,  and  found  himself  staggering  over  the  body  of  the 
bleeding  Pedro. 

The  sight  of  Ashley,  as  unexpected  as  it  was  reassuring, 
as  though  an  angel  had  arisen,  saved  the  wretched  youth 
from  utter  collapse  of  mind  and  body,  lint  for  the  new 
excitement  he  would  have  fal'on  prone,  and  had  he  ever 
regained  consciousness  it  would  have  been  to  find  his  com- 
rade dead.  But  under  the  impulse  of  Ashley's  energetic 
action  and  sustaining  words,  he  even  helped  to  raise  the 
victim,  in  whom,  lacerated  though  he  was,  Ashley  soon 
discovered  a  feeble  flutter  of  the  heart. 

'*  We  took  him  to  the  shelter  of  the  rock,"  said  Ashlej', 
who  had  by  signs  hastened  Pepo's  conclusion  of  the  account, 
which,  related  in  his  own  profuse  manner,  was  far  more 
agonizing  than  the  brief  outline  here  given,  "  and  found 
that  his  extraordinary  powers  of  endurance,  though  strained 
to  the  uttermost,  had  stood  him  in  wonderful  stead.  An 
arm  was  broken,  and  every  muscle  so  wrenched  and 
strained  that  when  he  regained  his  consciousness  the 
resolute  will,  which  during  the  progress  of  the  torture  had 
withheld  him  from  uttering  protest  or  groan,  utterly  gave 


patron  San 
10  shall  die. 
nd  he  forget 

band,  heard 

it  was  only 

)f  the  plnng- 

)er  was  to  bo 

imircz's  wild 

until  he  be- 

thc  unhappy 

Dr  exhibiting 

his  prostrate 

as  he  fell, 

or  in  the  con- 
mpanion  had 
dly,  expostu- 
allowcd ;  and 
lingly  almost 
dcd  th3  mad 
p  body  of  the 

as  reassuring, 
etched  youth 
t  for  the  new 

had  he  over 

find  his  <3ora- 

ey's  energetic 

d  to  raise  the 

Ashley  soon 

'  said  Ashley, 
>f  the  account, 
was  far  more 
"  and  found 
lough  strained 
il  stead.  An 
vrenched  and 
ciousness  the 
ic  torture  had 
I,  utterly  gave 


CHATA   AND  CHTNITA. 


351 


way,  and  he  screamed  in  agony.  Happily  his  persecutors 
were  too  far  distant  to  be  recalled  by  those  unrestrainahlo 
cries  of  returning  consciousness.  Even  while  we  pour('<l 
brandy  down  his  throat,  and  rubbed  and  stretched  his 
limbs,  it  seemed  as  though  it  would  have  been  a  thousand 
times  more  charitable  to  suffer  him  to  die  than  to  recall 
him  to  such  agony.  When  he  regained  full  conscious- 
ness, however,  the  cries  ceased,  —  not  because  the  pain 
was  less,  but  that  the  will  regained  its  mastery.  "  As 
his  v.yes  fell  upon  me,  he  gazed  at  me  a  moment  as  upon 
an  apparition.  So  wild  was  his  look,  I  thought  he  was 
going  mad. 

' '  *  Don  Juan  !  here  !  here !  *  he  muttered  lioarsel}'. 
'  Are  we  in  hell  together?  But,  no  ! '  he  sprang  up,  then 
fell  back  with  a  groan.  '  I  shall  live  to  warn  her  yet. 
Oh  God,  that  the  child  should  entreat  me  to  turn  traitor 
for  him  !  But  she  shall  not  fall  into  his  accursed  hands. 
Never !  never !  Ah,  Pepe,  thou  art  here  ;  hasten,  hasten  ! 
tell  her  she  is  the  child  of  John  Ashlev,  the  man  Ramirez 
murdered-  What  though  I  die?  She  will  be  saved !  Go ! 
go !  I  pray  you ! ' 

Chinita  started.  Ward  anticipated  some  outburst  of 
emotion,  but  the  glance  she  flashed  back  at  him  indicated 
simply  keen  intelligence  ;  the  springs  of  feeling  remained 
untouched.     With  an  effort  Ward  continued :  — 

"  My  recreant  servant  had  returned.  It  was  Stefano, 
whom  ^ou  know  well.  He  is  a  coward,  but  ready  in 
resource,  and  with  a  kindly  heart.  He  knew  the  country 
well,  and  told  us  of  a  cave  he  once  had  slept  in,  and  led 
us  to  it  unerringly.  To  our  surprise  we  found  there  a 
scant}^  supply  of  toasted  corn,  left  by  some  wandering 
tenant,  and  a  qiiantity  of  water,  still  fresh  enough  to  show 
that  the  cave  had  not  long  been  empty.  There  was  a  rem- 
nant of  a  woman's  dress  in  one  corner,  —  heaven  knows 
how  brought  there,  —  and  this  we  used  to  bind  the  pistol 
wound ;  while  Stefano  used  the  best  means  available  in 
setting  the  broken  arm.  These  rancheros  are  possessed 
of  strange  accomplishments,  —  I  don't  believe  a  surgeon 
could  have  done  it  with  more  skill. 

"  During  the  course  of  our  passage  through  the  dusk, 
bearing  as  best  we  could  our  groaning  burden,  Pedro's  hal- 
lucination thfit  I  was  John  Ashley  merged  into  recogni- 


*^"*^'  TJjlSpl 


?S::f 


352 


CITATA   AND   CHTNITA. 


Wm"^ 


Vk  ■■  'f. 


tion.  It  was  but  little  I  could  do  for  him,  but  it  filled  him 
with  gratitude.  '  You  are  a  good  Christian,'  he  ejaculated 
again  and  again ;  and  once  in  the  night,  when  the  others 
slept,  he  muttered  *  Nina^  nina  Ilerlinda,  forgive  me  !  I 
am  dying.  You  bade  me  protect  the  child  !  Ah,  even  in 
life  it  has  not  been  possible  !  Is  she  not  in  the  hands  you 
bade  me  defend  her  from  ? ' 

"These  sentences,  murmured  at  intervals,  kept  mo 
waking  while  all  others  slept,  hanging  over  him  with 
entreaties  to  disburden  his  mind  of  the  secret  which 
weighed  so  heavily  upon  him  that  it  seemed  under  it 
he  could  neither  live  nor  die. 

*' '  Tell  me  at  least,*  I  said,  '  who  is  this  man  called 
Ramirez,  whom  I  saw  this  evening  wreak  upon  you  so 
terrible  a  revenge  ?  How  comes  it  that  j'ou  are  so  hated 
by  the  man  for  whom  3'our  foster-daughter  is  plotting? 
Have  you  not  been  his  follower  in  bj'-gone  days  ?  Surely 
it  is  not  Chinita  who  has  set  such  enmity  between  you ! ' 

*'  '  No,  no !  it  began  before  she  was  born,'  answered 
Pedro  shudderingly,  his  pale  countenance  becoming  more 
ghastly  still.  '  Oh,  Lady  of  Sorrows ! '  he  continued,  as  if 
forgetful  of  my  presence, '  was  it  not  enough  that  the  child 
should  fall  again  into  the  power  of  Doiia  Isabel,  —  she  who 
tore  it  from  its  mother's  breast  to  cast  it  among  the  beg- 
gars who  feed  with  the  dogs  at  her  gates,  —  but  that  her 
father's  murderer,  her  mother's  destroyer,  should  wield 
this  devil's  witchcraft  over  her?  My  God,  who  will  de- 
fend her?    Who  will  rescue  her?  *  " 

Chinita  raised  her  head,  her  nostrils  quivering,  the  veins 
upon  her  neck  and  temples  swollen  and  palpitating. 

"  '  Tell  her  the  truth,'  I  said!  'Then  she  will  be  her 
own  defender ;  and  I  — you  know  me  ;  for  what  other  pur- 
pose am  I  here  but  to  shield  her?  Yes,  Pedro,  the  secret 
you  have  kept  so  long  is  mine  as  well  as  yours.  John 
Ashley,  my  cousin,  died  because  he  dared  love  a  woman 
named  Herlinda ;  and  that  Hcrlinda  was  the  daughter  of 
Dofia  Isabel  Garcia.'"  A  look  of  indiscribable  hauteur 
and  triumph  passed  over  Chinita's  rigid  face,  while  Ashley 
continued, — 

"  Pedro  stared  at  me  in  wild  dismay,  '  Nina^  ninaf  he 
muttered,  piteously,  *  I  have  not  betrayed  thee  ;  and  Dona 
Isabel,  though  you  have  taken  the  child  from  me  which 


it  filled  him 
ic  ejaculated 
n  the  others 
rive  me !  I 
Ah,  even  in 
le  hands  you 

Is,  kept  mo 
er  him  with 
secret  which 
ned  under  it 

19  man  called 
upon  you  so 
1  are  so  hated 
r  is  plotting? 
lays?     Surely 
tweenyou!' 
)rn,'  answered 
)ecoming  more 
lontinued,  as  if 
I  that  the  child 
bel,  — shewho 

,mong  the  beg- 
—  but  that  her 
,  should  wield 
,  who  will  de- 
bring,  the  veins 
kltating. 
the  will  be  her 
vhat  other  pur- 
^dro,  the  secret 
3  yours.    John 
love  a  woman 
Ihe  daughter  of 
^ibable  hauteur 
3,  while  Ashley 

Mna^ninal'  he 

[hee;  and  Dona 

from  me  which 


m 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


353 


you  thrust  upon  me  in  such  mockery,  have  I  not  borne  the 
torture  meekly?  No,  even  to  this  man,  so  like  the  other 
that  he  needed  not  to  tell  his  name  and  kin,  I  have  told 
nothing  to  shame  you ! ' 

"  His  words  sprang  from  his  lips  in  spite  of  the  will 
that  would  have  kept  them  back ;  for  a  time  he  was  like  a 
man  under  the  influence  of  a  maddening  draught.  Striv- 
ing to  calm  him  by  the  assurance  that  I  would  never  use 
the  knowledge  he  might  give  rac  to  dishonor  the  family  to 
which  his  whole  life  had  been  devoted,  I  drew  from  him 
little  by  little  his  strange  tale.  It  concerns  neither  you 
nor  me,  Chinita,  until  in  recompense  for  secret  service 
done  her  in  the  cause  of  her  wretched  brother  Leon,  Dona 
Isabel  Garcia  made  Pedro  gate-keeper  at  Tres  Hermanos. 
There  m}'  unfortunate  cousin  gained  his  good  offices  in  his 
secret  meetings  with  the  j'oung  Herlinda.  The  man  seems 
in  truth  to  have  been  conscious  of  no  serious  offence  against 
Dona  Isabel  in  lending  his  aid  to  the  tender  intercourse  of 
the  young  lovers,  although  he  was  cognizant  of  her  plans 
regarding  the  marriage  of  Herlinda  and  Gonzales.  My 
cousin  claimed  the  right  to  visit  his  wife  ;  and  Pedro  took 
his  gold  and  was  silent,  if  not  convinced. 

"  '  Ah,  how  jo3'ously  Ashley  left  his  wife  —  for  the  last 
time,'  Pedro  exclaimed  at  length,  ceasing  to  expect  my 
questions  and  taking  the  tone  of  narrative.  '  Yes,  Don 
Juan  called  Herlinda  always  his  wife :  what  was  the  keeper 
of  the  gate  to  demand, — the  word  of  a  priest  forsooth, 
rather  than  that  of  the  man  whom  his  mistress  loved? 
Ah !  Dona  Isabel  I  knew  would  ask  all,  or  the  young 
Gonzales.  One  cannot  do  worse  than  put  his  hand  in  a 
boiling  pot,  and  wherefore  do  that  when  it  hangs  over  his 
neighbor's  fire  ?  Yes,  never  had  Ashle}*  seemed  more  con- 
fident, more  gay.  "  I  shall  not  again  need  to  waken  thee 
at  midnight  to  let  me  pass  like  a  thief  who  leaves  a  bribe," 
he  said ;  "  to-morrow  I  shall  be  free  to  come  and  go  as 
I  will." 

"  '  Alas  ! '  the  remorseful  Pedro  continued, '  as  my  eyes 
followed  the  young  American,  I  thought  anj^  woman  might 
be  pardoned  for  loving  him  :  had  he  not  beguiled  my  own 
heart?  for  I  swear  I  loved  him.  Yet  I  wondered  at  the 
courage  of  the  Nina  Herlinda,  —  she  who  had  seemed  so 
timid,  so  yielding  to  her  mother's  every  wish.     Carambal 

23 


i 


Ill'' 


Jl;4   i   I 


H 


f!    A'l      '    ' 


354 


ClfATA   AND   CHTNITA. 


it  is  tnio,  —  "  There  is  nothing  too  strong  for  love  or 
death."  I  lauglicil  as  Ashley  stepped  forth,  to  think  how 
j'oiith  in  its  folly  can  bafllc  caution,  when  a  voice  behind 
me  echoed  the  sound.  The  blood  froze  in  my  veins,  so 
overpowering  was  the  very  presence  near  me  even  be- 
fore it  touched  me.  Almighty  powers !  when  I  looked  up, 
the  man  in  the  peasant's  dress,  whom  only  a  few  hours 
before  I  had  admitted  as  a  stranger  within  the  walls,  hurled 
himself  upon  me ;  but  the  blaze  in  his  eyes  could  burn 
only  from  the  fierce  and  terrible  rage  of  the  evil  spirit  of 
that  house.  It  was  Leon  Valle  who  dashed  me  down 
and  rushed  out  into  the  night.' " 

Chinita  uttered  an  exclama^^'on  ;  then  repeating  the  name, 
*'  Leon !  Leon  Vall^,"  listened  with  bated  breath,  while 
Ashley  continued  in  the  words  of  Pedro :  — 

"  '  I  knew  at  the  moment  that  Ashley  was  lost.  Not  a 
thousand  prayers,  nor  the  swiftest  aid  my  cries  could  have 
gained  him,  would  have  saved  him.  I  waited,  scarce 
daring  to  breathe ;  with  strained  ears  I  listened.  Would 
the  murderer,  his  first  work  accomplished,  return?  I  knew 
then  he  held  my  life  forfeit ;  yet  had  he  returned,  I  should 
have  opened  the  gate  to  him.  Ah,  you  know  not  the 
power  of  that  man  !  As  it  was  in  Leon  Vallo  then,  so  it  is 
now  in  Ramirez.  God,  what  power  in  those  terrible  eyes ! 
I  felt  it  then,  I  felt  it  to-day.  What  resistance  was  possi- 
ble? The  morning  came.  I  was  still  alive,  but  the  peo- 
ple came  to  me  crying  of  the  dead.  What  need  had  I  to 
ask  the  name?  In  the  midst  of  the  tumult  a  terrible 
shriek  rang  on  my  ears.  I  thought  my  brain  was  turning. 
There  was  but  one  thought  that  steadied  it,  —  confession, 
confession  to  Dona  Isabel. 

"  '  As  soon  as  it  was  possible  I  sought  her  presence.  I 
cannot  tell  you  what  passed ;  I  only  know  the  words  I 
would  have  spoken  died  on  my  lips.  Whether  Dona  Isabel 
had  known  of  it  or  not,  I  could  not  determine ;  but  that 
the  love  of  Herlinda  Garcia  and  the  young  American  was 
to  die  with  him,  and  that  the  terrible  vengeance  which  had 
been  worked  for  her  was  not  to  be  in  vain,  seared  itself  up- 
on my  mind.  The  preservation  of  that  secret  was  to  atone 
for  my  sins,  and  not  confession.  Never  to  mortal  was  my 
knowledge  to  be  breathed.  This  was  the  penitence  laid 
upon  me.     And  so,  despairing,  I  left  her.     What  was  the 


en  ATA   AND   C/I/N/TA. 


355 


,(T  for  lovo  or 
."to  think  how 
a  voice  bcliin<l 
^  my  veins,  so 
r  me  even  be- 
en I  looked  up, 
\y  a  few  hours 
,he  walls,  hurled 
yes  could  burn 
the  evil  spirit  of 
ashed  me  down 

eating  the  name, 
5d  breath,  while 

was  lost.     Not  a 
cries  could  have 
[  waited,  scarce 
istened.     Would 
.return?    I  knew 
returned,  I  should 
,u  know  not  the 
^alle  then,  so  it  is 
ose  terrible  eyes ! 
stance  was  possi- 
live,  but  the  peo- 
hat  need  had  I  to 
tumult  a  terrible 
)rain  was  turning, 
it^  _-  confession, 

t  her  presence.    I 
now  the  words  I 
ether  Dona  Isabel 
iermine ;  but  that 
ing  American  was 
igeance  which  had 
1°  seared  itself  up- 
lecret  was  to  atone 
to  mortal  was  my 
;he  penitence  laid 
.r.    What  was  tlic 


immortal  soul  of  a  poor  peasant  in  comparison  to  the 
honor  of  the  family  of  Garcia? 

"  '  It  was  well !  Why  should  a  servant  gainsay  his 
mistress?  So  months  went  on,  Senor.  Within  and 
around  the  hacienda  people  were  dying.  They  told  me 
the  nina  Ilerlinda  herself  was  pining,  —  some  whispered 
for  the  American ;  but  a  terror  seized  even  on  the  boldest, 
and  the  American's  name  ceased  to  be  heard,  and  that  of 
the  young  Gonzales  tor''  its  place.  The  gossips  were  con- 
tent to  blame  any  na.  e  '  ">.chid  for  her  wan  cheeks  and 
sunken  ejes.  But  I  knew  ^hat  no  man  had  scorned  her 
love,  and  that  no  liviij  man  had  aught  to  answer  for  had 
she  loved  too  well  1  had  not  seen  her  for  weeks  and 
weeks ;  but  one  nigh'  a  creature  so  pale  and  wan  I 
thought  it  her  ghost,  accosted  me.  Strange,  strange  the 
mission  that  broug  her.  It  was  to  entreat  my  protection 
— that  of  the  wonhless  Pedro  —  for  the  child  which  in 
secret  and  in  banishment  she  was  about  to  bring  into  the 
world. 

'"Well!  well!  I  promised  all  she  asked.  I  should 
have  done  so  even  had  I  thought  it  possible  the  dire  need 
she  pleaded  would  be  hers.  Oh !  I  had  heard  strange 
and  fearful  tales  of  deeds  that  have  been  wrought  within 
the  walls  of  these  great  and  solitary  haciendas ;  but  that 
Dona  Isabel  would  stoop  to  crime,  and  that  I  should  find  it 
in  my  power  to  save  a  child  which  she  would  strive  to 
sacrifice,  I  could  not  believe.  Trouble,  I  thought,  had 
made  Herlinda  mad.  But  she  was  mad  only  with  the 
frenzy  of  a  prophetess. 

"  '  With  terrible  forebodings  I  saw  her  taken  from  her 
home.  Day  and  night  I  thought  of  her,  and  my  heart  was 
like  ice ;  but  one  day,  when  worn  out  with  watching  and 
expectancy  I  sat  at  the  gate,  I  fell  into  a  doze,  and  in  my 
dream  heard  the  voice  of  Herlinda  calling  me.  It  changed 
to  that  of  a  man.  I  woke  with  a  start,  and  a  child  was 
dropped  into  my  hands.  Strange  and  wonderful  must 
have  been  the  means  by  which  the  hunted  and  distracted 
Herlinda  had  evaded  the  motl>er  «he  feared !  Who  had 
been  her  friends,  Seiior?  The  wonder  is  with  me  still. 
I  saw  the  face  of  her  messenger  but  for  a  moment, 
3'et  it  has  haunted  me.  Yes,  more  than  once,  when  I 
have  thought  of   new    faces    that   have    passed    before 


nr>(; 


en  ATA   AND    CIIINITA. 


M*  ! 


Tf"*'^ 


liji 


iilH 


ilii ! 


mo,  I  havo  said,  "Such  an  one  was  like  the  man;  why 
■was  I  blind  to  it  when  he  stood  before  me  ?  " '  Pedro 
started  up,  and  clasped  my  arm  so  powerfully  that  I 
shrank.  '  Sefici  i  '  he  cried,  'As  God  lives,]  saw  such 
a  face  to-day  !  It  was  that  of  the  man  who  rode  behind- 
him  they  call  Ramirez.' 

"  '  lleyes ! '  I  ejaculated.  '  Reyes  !  '  What  strange 
sport  made  the  messenger  of  Herlinda  the  follower  of 
Ramirez?    I  —  " 

Ashley  paused,  for  Chinita  echoed  the  name  with  an 
intense  surprise  far  greater  than  his  own.  She  clasped 
her  hands  to  her  temples,  as  though  fearing  the  mad  be- 
wilderment of  her  thoughts  was  crazing  her.  "  Tell  me 
no  more,"  she  said  faintly.  "  Do  I  not  know  the  unnat- 
ural wretch  that  I  have  been  ?  But  what  of  Pedro  ?  Why 
did  you  leave  him  ?  How  dared  you  leave  him  ?  You  ! " 
She  turned  upon  Pepe,  accusingly'.  "  He  lives,  you  say, 
and  yet  you  are  here  !  " 

"  No  less  would  content  him,"  interposed  Ashley,  while 
Pepd  muttered  an  inarticulate  remonstrance.  "It  was 
Pepe  you  had  sent  upon  j'our  errand ;  it  was  Pep(5  whom 
Pedro  would  dispatch  with  his  answer." 

"  Ay !  "  said  Pepe,  grumblingly,  "  and  with  3-ou  I  must 
remain.  I  am  sworn  to  that,  whether  you  like  it  or 
loathe  it." 

"I,"  said  Ashley,  "have  ridden  thus  far  out  of  the 
direct  path  I  would  have  taken  to  El  Toro,  to  warn  you 
of  the  character  of  the  man  you  have  made  your  hero ; 
to  toll  3'ou  I  believe  you  to  be  tiie  daughter  of  my  cousin, 
to  offer  you  the  home  and  the  fortune  that  would  have 
been  his." 

He  spoke  unhesitatingly,  yet  a  strange  sense  of  be- 
wilderment swept  over  him.  He  was  conscious  that  it 
was  no  fear  of  material  loss  that  troubled  him,  though  not 
for  an  instant  did  he  dream  of  using  the  advantage  of  the 
law  against  this  defenceless  girl ;  but  that  this  strange  im- 
pulsive creature  should  be  of  the  same  blood  as  he,  as  the 
calm  and  gentle  Mary ;  that  she  should  come  into  their  life 
with  her  wayward  passions,  her  erratic  genius,  her  weird 
beauty,  —  was  a  thing  incomprehensible,  almost  terrible. 
Yet  the  blood  leaped  stronger  in  the  young  man's  veins 
as  he  beheld  her;   and  his  heart  bounded  as  he  said, 


CI/ATA   AND   CiriNITA. 


357 


man;  why 
> »' '  Pedro 
fully  that  I 

1  saw  such 
rode  behiiul- 

ruat  strango^ 
I  follower  of 

amc  with  an 

Hhe  clasped 

the  mad  be- 
f.  "  Tell  mo 
)W  the  unnat- 
L^edro?  Why 
hun?  You!" 
ives,  you  say, 

Ashley,  while 
ce.  "It  was 
as  Pep<^  whom 

ith  you  I  must 
ou  like  it  or 

I  far  out  of  the 
J,  to  warn  you 
j,dc  your  hero; 
|i-  of  my  cousin, 
lat  would  have 

le  sense  of  hc- 
Inscious  that  it 
[lim,  though  not 
Hvantage  of  the 
[this  strange  im- 
lod  as  he,  as  the 
QC  into  their  life 
lenius,  her  weird 
[almost  terrible, 
ing  man's  veins 
led  as  he  said. 


"  Yes,  I  must  go ;  for  I  have  certahi  news  tliat  the  enemy 
is  masshig  bis  forces  for  attack.  I  go  to  warn  (jlonzales  ; 
but  1  shall  return  to  claim  you  as  my  cousin's  child. 
Moauvvhile,  be  silent  —  patient.  Pedro  prays  you  keep 
the  secret  of  your  birth,  lie  believes  as  linnly  as  ever 
that  only  thus  can  you  bo  safe.  And  for  that  mother's 
sake  I  pray  you  be  silent.  Kight  may  be  won  for  you, 
and  her  good  name  be  still  left  untainted.  There  may  bo 
a  mystery  still  to  be  unravelled." 

"  1  will  bo  silent ;  I  will  wait,"  Chinita  said  in  a  cold, 
hollow  voice. 

Ashley  noticed  that  she  had  no  word  of  sympathy  for 
him,  no  recognition  of  the  endeavors  that  had  led  to  her 
discovery.  Apparently  tho  thought  that  ho  was  aught  to 
her  was  as  far  from  her  mind  as  any  grief  had  ever  been 
for  that  other  American,  —  as  far  indeed  as  such  was  at  that 
moment.  For,  strangely,  Ashley  seemed  to  penetrate  tho 
inmost  shrine  of  her  thought ;  and  still  the  figures  ai'ound 
which  centred  her  love,  her  hopes,  her  passions  wore 
only  those  of  Pedro,  of  Ramirez,  of  Dona  Isabel. 

"  I  will  be  silent,"  she  repeated.  "  Ah,  it  will  be  easier 
now !  Yes,  hasten  to  El  Toro,  bring  Gonzales ;  ho  will 
be  a  surer,  safer  leader  than  Ruiz  —  though  I  will  turn  him 
again  to  my  will.  Yes,  yes,  more  than  once  I  have  thought 
Ruiz  wavering,  uncertain !  Now  at  a  word  I  will  make 
him  what  before  he  has  only  affected  to  others  to  bo,  — 
tho  undying  enemy  of  Ramirez  ! " 

Ashley  was  silent.  He  would  have  had  this  girl  passive, 
supine,  womanly ;  yet  from  the  very  necessity  of  warning 
her,  he  had  been  forced  to  arouse  in  her  this  vindictive 
wrath  against  tho  man  who  had  done  her  unwittingly  such 
foul  wrong. 

"Listen!"  he  said  hurriedly,  after  a  pause.  "It  is 
Pedro  who  implores,  who  commands,  that  until  he  gives 
you  leave,  nothing  of  what  I  have  told  you  shall  pass  your 
lips.  I  might  have  had  your  promise  before  I  would  speak. 
Sec,  tho  stars  are  shining  that  must  see  me  on  mj'  way. 
G  ive  me  two  promises  before  we  part,  —  one  that  you  will 
be  silent;  the  other  that  Popr  shall  1)0  contiiiuall}-  within 
your  sight  or  call.  For  this  he  was  sent  from  tlie  side  of 
the  suffering,  perhaps  dying,  Pedro.  He  would  have  you 
safe, — safe  from  Ramirez." 


m 

n 


358 


C/TATA  AND  CITINITA. 


m 


i»/r 


\r4 


m^h  \ 


"  And  I  will  kill  you  before  you  shall  fall  into  his 
handH,"  interposed  l*ei)o,  grimly. 

C'liinita  smiled  with  (tyiiical  bitterness,  and  said  indiffer- 
ently, "  I  promise.  Yes,  1  promise.  Ah,  yes,  Seflor, 
you  will  see  1  have  been  silent  when  you  come  again. 
And  now  1  will  go  back.  What  if  the  Senora  Dofia  Isabel 
siiould  wake  and  find  me  missing?  —  the  child  she  loves 
so  well ! " 

She  waved  her  hand,  and  stepped  backward  through  the 
darkness.  At  the  door  of  the  chamber  whore  Dona  Isabel 
lay,  she  seemed  to  vanish  into  air,  so  swift,  so  silent,  was 
her  going. 

Ashley  gazed  after  her  long  in  silence,  —  so  long  that 
another  spectral  figure  stole  through  the  doorway,  and 
with  noiseless  steps  reached  i'ei^e's  side.  "  The  Sefiora 
slept  like  the  dead,"  Juana  whispered;  "but  not  for  a 
thousand  hard  dollars  would  I  lie  in  Chinita's  place  again, 
while  she  forgets  time  in  lover's  chat.  I  wonder  at  thee, 
rep«5 !  thou  hast  not  a  man's  heart  in  thee.  1  thought 
thou  lovedst  her  thyself ! " 

"Fool!"  said  Pepu,  sulkily,  and  turned  away;  while 
Juana,  ill  paid  for  her  devotion,  sought  a  corner  of  the 
corridor  in  which  to  sink  to  sleep. 

"Strange,  incomprehensible  creature!"  muttered  Ash- 
ley at  length.  "  What  emotions,  what  thoughts  are  hers? 
At  least  it  is  certain  that  the  fascination  of  Ramirez  is 
dissolved,  —  horror,  hatred  perhaps,  has  taken  its  place. 
She  is  safe.  And  now  Pepe,  my  horse ;  I  must  take  the 
road.  And  if  it  be  true  that  Juarez  is  at  hand,  even 
Ramirez  himself  may  tremble ;  the  combined  forces  of 
Gonzales  and  Ruiz  will  hold  him  at  ba}',  and  keep  an 
open  road  for  the  intrepid  Liberal  to  the  capital  "' 

It  was  scarcely  two  hours  past  midnight,  thoug^li  his 
interview  with  Chinita  had  lasted  long,  when  Ashh^y 
cautiousl}'  emerged  from  the  inn,  and  took  his  waj'  tOAvard 
the  open  countr}-.  The  troops  lay  at  the  east  end  of  the 
town ;  but  giving  the  watchword  to  the  few  sentinels  who 
challenged  him,  he  avoided  them,  and  soon  found  himself 
in  the  vast  solitude  of  the  night.  He  had  takoti  tlie  pre- 
caution to  procure  a  fresh  horse,  and  for  some  leagues  the 
way  lay  across  a  level  country,  so  he  made  sucli  speed  as 
brought  him  by  dawn  within  sight  of  the  mountain  upon 


CirATA   AND  ClIINITA. 


350 


fall  into  Ilia 

said  inclilFor- 

yes,  Seftor, 

como  nguin. 

I  Dona  Isabel 

lild  she  loves 

(I  through  the 
L»  Dona  Isabel 
so  silent,  was 

-so  long  that 
doorway,  and 
»'  The  Scnora 
but  not  for  a 
,'s  place  again, 
ironder  at  thee, 
je.     1  thought 

d  away;  while 
,  corner  of  the 

muttered  Ash- 
iights  are  hers? 
of  Ramirez  is 
akcn  its  place, 
must  take  the 
at  hand,  even 
)incd  forces  of 
,  and  keep  an 
I  capital 
rht,  thouf<h  his 
'  when  Ashl(\y 
his  way  to^^ard 
east  end  of  the 
[V  sentinels  who 
n  found  himself 
taken  tlie  pre- 
ome  leagues  the 
;  sucli  speed  as 
mountain  upon 


which  Pedro  lay,  —  but  on  a  side  many  miles  nearer  El 
Toro,  his  destination,  where  Cionzales,  with  his  insulllcliMit 
garrison,  was  anxiously  awaiting  tlie  reinforcements  with- 
out whlcli  he  could  neither  dare  to  advance,  uor  hope  to 
maintain  his  position  in  case  of  attack. 

As  Ashley  glanced  toward  the  ragged  and  solitary  clilFs 
where  like  a  hunted  animal  the  umn  was  lying,  he  reuitun- 
bered  that  after  the  first  horror  was  passed,  Chinita  had 
spoken  no  more  of  her  foster-father,  hail  asked  no  ques- 
tion as  to  what  hands  were  set  to  tend  him,  uor  in  what 
direction  lay  the  cave  in  whicli  he  was  sheltered.  Such 
(queries  would  have  been  useless,  —  she  could  do  noth- 
ing ;  yet  it  would  have  been  but  natural  that  she  should 
have  made  them.  Even  if  the  gate-keeper's  care  of  her 
neglected  infancy  was  forgotten,  or  accepted  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  though  her  mind  was  absorbed  by  thoughts 
of  her  own  history  and  her  wrongs,  yet  his  very  connec- 
tion with  them  should  have  made  him  an  object  of  interest 
if  not  of  tenderness. 

"  Heavens  !  "  murmured  Ashley,  "  can  it  be  that  this 
strange  creature,  as  different  in  her  instincts  as  in  her  ap- 
pearance and  education,  is  of  the  same  blood  as  Mary? 
A  bewildering  charge  shall  1  take  to  her,  if  Dona  Isabel 
still,  to  save  the  reputation  of  her  daughter,  lays  no  claim 
to  this  beautiful  girl,  and  denies  her  such  scanty  justice  as 
she  can  give !  For  a  daughter  of  an  Ashley  must  not  be 
left  to  the  sport  of  chance,  — neither  to  bo  sold  to  the  first 
who  bargains  for  her  beauty ;  uor,  worse  still,  to  be  con- 
signed to  a  convent,  as  the  unhappy  Herlinda  was."  He 
reasoned  calmly,  yet  his  heart  and  temples  beat  hotly. 
"  Let  me  think.  If  this  Gonzales  but  proves  a  man  of 
honor,  I  may  gain  some  aid  from  him ;  he,  at  least,  may 
know  in  which  convent  this  woman  —  whom  he  also  loved 
—  is  immured.  By  the  way,  he  is  a  fanatic  upon  this  new 
scheme  of  Juarez,  of  secularizing  the  i)roperty  of  the  clergy. 
Ah,  in  event  of  the  success  of  the  Liberal  arms,  that  might 
work  countless  and  unimagined  changes  !  " 

The  tliought  was  full  of  suggestion.  shley  gave  rein 
to  his  horse,  and  dashed  forward  with  fr  ^  vigor.  After- 
ward he  scarce  remembered  how  the  dii ;,  passed ;  but  its 
close  found  him,  spent  and  weary,  alighting  at  the  door  of 
the  iuu  of  El  Toro. 


J 


360 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


i) 


'"Ml 


Almost  at  the  same  moment,  far  on  the  other  side 
of  the  mountain,  two  travellers,  so  wrapped  in  long  striped 
blankets  and  covered  by  wide  sombreros  as  to  be  almost 
indistinguishable,  the  man  from  the  woman,  drew  rein 
before  a  mass  of  cactus  and  gray  rock ;  and  while  the 
one  gazed  furtively  around,  vainly  seeking  a  sign  of  human 
contiguity,  the  other  dismounted,  and  bending  to  a  mere 
crevice  in  the  rock  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  then  turned 
to  help  his  companion,  saying,  "•  That  will  bring  Stefano. 
Chinita,  thou  wilt  see  that,  though  a  coward,  he  is  no  fool, 
and  has  cared  well  for  thy  foster-father.  Said  I  not  so? 
Ah,  here  he  comes." 

Chinita  was  cramped  by  long  riding,  and  was  fain  to 
cling  to  her  guide.  She  looked  around  her  with  a  shudder. 
The  wild  solitude  of  the  place  was  terrible.  She  feared  to 
move,  lest  she  should  find  herself  face  to  face  with  death. 
Her  head  swam,  the  world  turned  black  before  her  eyes  ; 
and  in  the  midst  a  strange  hand  touched  her  own.  A  low 
laugh  sounded  on  her  ear,  — it  was  that  of  a  woman. 

"  Santa  Maria ! "  she  heard  Pepe  exclaim.  "  It  is  the 
Virgin  of  Guadalupe  herself.  It  is  then  that  we  are  too 
late  to  serve  the  poor  padron !  " 

The  low  laugh  sounded  again,  —  there  was  in  it  more  of 
madness  than  sanctity.  Chinita,  with  superstitious  fear 
and  desperation,  sought  to  wrench  her  hand  from  the  hot 
clasp  in  which  it  was  held.  The  close  air  of  the  entrance 
of  the  cave  closed  round  her,  as  with  persistent  force  she 
was  drawn  within ;  and  with  a  scream  of  terror  she  fell 
fainting,  overcome  by  the  excitement  and  exertion  of 
many  hours,  and  by  the  unexpected  apparition  which 
had  greeted  her. 


iW'!^ 


»)?'-, 


i'  1 


B  other  side 
long  striped 
to  be  almost 
1,  drew  rein 
nd  while  the 
ign  of  humiiu 
ng  to  a  mere 
,  then  turned 
iring  Stefano. 
he  is  no  fool, 
,aid  I  not  so? 

d  was  fain  to 
rith  a  shudder. 
She  feared  to 
ce  with  death, 
ifore  her  eyes ; 
r  own.  A  low 
1  woman, 
rn.  "It  is  the 
that  we  are  too 

,s  in  it  more  of 

(orstitious  fear 

from  the  hot 

^f  the  entrance 

[stent  force  she 

terror  she  fell 

dd  exertion  of 

[parition  which 


XXXVII. 

The  illness  which  attacked  Doiia  Feliz  upon  the  morn- 
ing that  Ashley  Ward  set  forth  from  Tres  Hermanos,  was 
the  first  indication  of  an  epidemic  similar  in  character 
and  force  to  that  which  had  devastated  the  hacienda  fifteen 
years  before.  Reminiscences  of  the  time  of  the  great 
sickness  became  the  absorbing  topic  of  conversation,  until 
the  care  of  the  dying  and  the  burial  of  the  dead  silenced 
all  voices,  and  turned  all  thoughts  to  the  overwhelming 
cares  of  the  present. 

At  first  with  unspeakable  remorse  Chata  attributed  the 
illness  of  Dona  Feliz  to  her  unwonted  exertion  in  walk- 
ing to  the  reduction-works  through  the  fierce  sunshine, 
and  to  her  grief  and  shame  in  discovering  her,  whom 
she  believed  to  be  her  grq,nddaughter,  there  in  conver- 
sation with  a  stranger,  —  from  whom  a  modest  maiden 
would  have  shrunk  in  decent  coyness,  if  not  in  fear. 
Chata's  heart  burned  with  grief  and  remorse.  She  longed 
to  throw  herself  upon  her  knees,  and  pour  out  her  soul  be- 
fore the  woman  she  held  in  such  love  and  reverence  that 
the  thought  of  her  distrust  and  displeasure  was  like  a 
mottal  wound  in  her  heart.  Yet  she  was  forced  to  be 
silent,  before  the  unconsciousness  and  delirium  which  for 
days  and  weeks  overpowered  the  body  and  mind  of  the 
strong,  though  no  longer  3'outhful,  woman. 

It  was  some  consolation  to  the  distressed  maiden  that 
slie  was  called  upon,  almost  alone,  to  bear  the  labor  and 
responsibility  of  the  care  of  Doiia  Feliz.  Don  Rafael 
was  aimost  helpless  before  his  mother's  peril ;  the  servants 
were  terrified  and  incompetent.  Soon  Chata,  in  the  inces- 
sant toil,  almost  ccasod  to  think  of  the  trials  and  perplex- 
ities of  her  own  life,  save  to  cry  bitterly  to  herself  that 
had  she  never  known  before  that  Dona  Rita  was  not  her 
own  mother,  the  dilfercnce  in  lier  bearing  at  tiiat  crisis 
towaid  Rosario  and  herself  would  have  betrayed  the  truth. 


it-'  -L 


m  I 

11 

i!:    ■' 


1!   • 


l!'?' 


H 


3G2 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


*'  Even  Don  Rafael,"  she  thought,  '-^  though  he  loves 
mc,  is  content  that  I,  rather  than  his  own  child,  should 
risk  the  danger  ol  the  infected  atmosphere." 

But  in  truth  the  alarmed  and  harassed  man  was  capable 
of  but  little  reflection  or  discrimination  as  to  the  actions 
of  those  about  him.  He  gave  no  heed  to  the  sclfishnes 
of  his  wife  or  llosario,  while  he  found  Chata  ever  at  Dona 
Felix's  side,  tireless,  calm,  unmurmuring,  ministering  with 
a  rare  abilitj',  which  even  natural  tact  and  long  experience 
seldom  combine  to  produce  in  such  perfection,  to  the 
needs  and  comfort  of  the  ever  delirious  patient.  He  grew 
speedily  to  have  a  perfect  trust  and  faith  in  this  minister- 
ing child ;  and  though  once,  when  for  a  little  while  his 
mother  was  silent,  and  the  servants  had  fallen  asleep,  he 
opened  his  lips  to  question  her,  there  was  something  in 
the  imploring  yet  innocent  gaze  of  those  clear  gray  e3e8 
before  which  he  shrank,  as  Ashley  Ward  had  done,  pow- 
erless to  uttsr  a  word  that  should  indicate  distrust. 

"Perhaps  m}'  mother  knows, — yes,  doubtless  she 
knew,"  he  said  to  himself,  with  a  faint  attempt  to  justify 
his  silence.  "  Carainha!  a  man  must  have  a  black  heart 
himself  who  could  doubt  the  whiteness  of  so  pure  a  soul !  " 

Almost  hourl}'  his  perturbation  of  mind  was  increased 
by  the  report  of  some  fresh  name  upon  the  list  of  the  sick. 
With  a  faith  as  profound  as  their  own  in  the  decoctions  of 
herbs  and  roots  used  by  the  village  quacks,  and  a  super- 
stitious respect  for  the  alleged  virtues  of  blessed  relic, 
and  candles,  and  even  for  amulets  of  less  sacred  renown, 
he  went  from  hut  to  hut,  endeavoring  to  propitiate  the  favor 
of  Heaven  by  charitable  deeds,  — thus  perhaps  gaining  for 
liirasolf  a  more  personal  affection  than  the  mere  clannish 
regard  which  he  in  a  measure  shared  with  the  actual  pro- 
])rietors  of  the  vast  estate,  but  which  was  not  strong 
enough  to  insure  him  against  the  wit  or  malice  of  the 
dependent  yet  utterly  indillcrent  and  irresponsible  liost  he 
attempted  to  govern.  A  doctor  had  been  sent  for,  and 
r .  .  .  priest ;  but  neither  appeared,  —  the  priest  perhaps 
k._..ause  the  Inst  one,  who  liad  bnt  lately  left,  there,  hnd 
g'ven  accounts  of  Dona  Isabel's  proceedings  little  likely 
to  be  acceptable  to  the  Church.  This  added  to  the 
perplexities  of  Don  Rafael. 

In   the  midst  of  them  he  was  one  day  a<;costed   by 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


3G3 


igh  he  loves 
ihild,  should 

was  capable 
3  the  actions 
le  selfishiic's 
ever  at  Dona 
listcring  with 
ig  cxpeiience 
:^tion,  to   tlie 
int.    He  grew 
this  minister- 
ttle  while  his 
leu  asleep,  he 
something  in 
[ear  gray  eyes 
ad  done,  pow- 
strust. 

loubtless    she 
impt  to  justify 
3  a  bUu!k  heart 
pure  a  soul ! " 
was  increased 
ist  of  the  sick. 
3  decoctions  of 
5,  and  a  super- 
blessed  relic, 
lacred  renown, 
itiate  the  favor 
iips  gaining  for 
mere  clannish 
he  actual  pro- 
as  not  strong 
malice  of  the 
)nsiblc  liost  he 
sent  for,  and 
priest  perhaps 
oft  there,  hnd 
gs  little  likely 
added  to   the 

y  a<.'costcd  by 


Tomas,  the  husband  of  Florencia,  who  in  tones  of  genu- 
ine distress,  which  for  the  time  gave  pathos  to  his  usual 
drunken  whine,  bewailed  the  sickness  of  his  wife,  and  re- 
lated how,  spurning  his  care,  she  called  vainly  upon  her 
Uncle  Pedro  (not  a  day's  luck  had  befallen  them  since  he 
had  left  them),  and  upon  the  Sefiorita  Chinita  (praying  his 
grace's  pardon  for  mentioning  one  whom  the  Senora  Dona 
Isabel  herself  had  chosen  to  be  a  lady),  to  come  and  give 
her  a  cup  of  cold  water,  —  as  if  he,  Tomas,  liimself  had 
not  spilled  over  her  a  jar  of  hone3'ed  pulque  in  the  vain 
effort  to  pour  a  draught  down  her  parched  throat.  It  was 
plain  to  see  that  the  woman  was  doomed,  and  that  it  was 
for  her  the  corpse-candles  had  been  lighted. 

"The  corpse-candles!"  echoed  Don  Rafael,  —  for  he 
well  knew  the  popular  superstition  at  Tres  Hermanos,  that 
when  the  burial  lights  were  to  burn  in  the  great  house,  their 
spectral  counterfeits  were  first  seen  in  the  ancient  dwell- 
ing where  the  spirits  of  the  early  possessors  of  the  haci- 
enda still  guarded  treasures,  which  awaited  some  daring 
and  fortunate  claimant  in  a  descendant  vt^ho  should  com- 
bine their  faith  with  a  tenacity  of  purpose  and  an  untiring 
energy  worthy  the  riches  that  had  eluded  their  own  weak 
and  inconstant  efforts.  Had  indeed  the  conclave  of  shades 
gathered  to  welcome  anof'er  unsuccessful  toiler  among 
tliem?  Don  Rafael  shuddciod  and  crossed  himself,  and 
wondered  that  there  was  no  news  of  Doiia  Isabel.  He 
gave  Tomas  a  silver  piece,  and  told  him  that  it  was  not  for 
Florencia,  or  even  for  his  own  mother,  that  the  corpse- 
lights  of  the  Garcias  would  burn  blue,  and  sent  him  away 
comforted. 

An  liour  later,  through  the  medium  of  the  fiery  liquors 
distilled  from  the  agave,  Tomas  had  so  far  strength- 
enod  his  courage  that  he  forgot  the  cori)se-lights  alto- 
gether, until  he  saw  them  again  at  midnight  glimmering 
in  the  distance,  not  only  behind  the  iiacienda  walls,  but 
fitfully  in  the  darkness  of  the  middle  distance.  He  crossed 
himself,  as  he  fancied  he  caught  at  intervals  glimpses  of 
spectral  bearers.  His  comrade  on  the  watch  jested  at  tlie 
foars  tliat  he  opined  trunsfornuHl  the  .soft  biiUiancy  of  the 
large  and  brilliant  firetly  into  the  light  of  ghostly  candles  ; 
aiid  Tomas  was  content  to  yield  to  the  soporific  (iliarm  of 
the  mescal,  ralhcr  than  contest  the  matter  with  his  drowsy 


( 


^^^1^^^ 


■M-     *«SiP^' 


II, 


1. 


frn 


i '! 


11 


ji  ,1 1' 


364 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


comrade, — who,  with  a  regiilarity  which  custom  made  in- 
variable, at  certain  intervals  awoke  and  emitted  the  shrill 
whistle  that  proclaimed  thiit  the  sleepers  of  Tres  Herma- 
nos  were  safe  beneath  his  vigilant  care. 

Just  at  dawn  the  man  straightened  himself  sudden!}' 
before  the  rampart  against  which  he  had  been  leaning,  gazed 
over  the  landscape  with  keen  apprehension,  and  uttered  a 
faint  cry  of  consternation.  The  sandy  line  between  the 
hacienda  gates  and  the  village  had  become  a  living  one. 
Whence  had  the  figures  stolen?  There  they  stood  motion- 
less, horse  and  man.  The  vvatchman  stooped  and  shook 
his  unconscious  comrade.  "Mother  of  Jesus!"  he 
cried ;  "  your  corpse- lights  were  in  the  hands  of  liv- 
ing men.  They  are  here !  they  are  here  !  Ah,  they  are 
knocking  upon  the  'loors!  That  fool  Felipe  is  turning 
the  key  in  the  lock  !  U p  !  Up  !  "  At  the  same  moment 
his  whistle  sounded  shrilly,  and  the  crack  of  his  rifle 
upon  the  air  woke  the  slumbering  tenants  of  the  assaulted 
house. 

Too  late !  the  unwary  gatekeeper  was  surprised ;  the 
heavy  doors  were  (orced  open,  the  courts  in  an  instant 
were  full  of  armed  raon,  and  Don  Rafael,  half  dressed, 
staggering  from  his  scarce  tried  slumbers,  was  seized  by  a 
hali'-dozen  soldiers,  wiiile  a  voice  he  well  knew,  though  it 
came  as  if  from  the  dead,  and  knew  to  be  that  of  a  m^n 
who  was  as  inflexible  in  act  as  unscrupulous  in  purpose, 
excl-'iiraed,  — 

"How  now,  Don  Rafael?  Doiia  Isabel  Garcia  has  at 
last  showed  her  true  colors.  It  is  for  Gon.  ales  and  the 
Liberals  the  men  and  treasure  of  Tres  Hermanos  have 
been  accumalating !  What,  nothing  for  her  Mother  the 
Church?  Ah,  it  is  the  old  story,  — nothing  for  those  of 
her  own  household  !  " 

The  unwelcome  intruder  glanced  around  him  with  the 
air  of  one  fani'liar  with,  j'et  inimical  to,  his  surroundings  ; 
,he  laughed  as  he  dropped  the  point  of  his  sword  upon  the 
brick  pave,  and  his  spurred  heel  rang  upon  the  stone  step. 
Yet  a  close  observer  might  have  noticed  a  false  note  in  the 
light,  and  scornful  tone,  as  though  sonic  poignant  memory 
troubled  liis  present  purpose  ;  and  it  was  with  a  half  eva- 
sive though  still  a  threatening  glance,  that  he  lifted  his 
e3'es  to  encounter  those  of  the  adniinistrador,  who  atood 


«r-fl-:i  M 


istom  made  in- 
iitted  the  shrill 
»f  Tres  Herma- 

mself  suddenly 
1  leaning,  gazed 
I,  and  uttered  a 
ne  between  the 
ne  a  living  one. 
y  stood  motion- 
jped  and  shook 
)f   Jesus !  "    he 
hands   of  liv- 
!     Ah,  they  are 
elipe  is  turning 
le  same  moment 
ack  of  his  rifle 
of  the  assaulted 

i  surprised ;  the 

ts  in  an  instant 

,el,  half  dressed, 

was  seized  by  a 

knew,  though  it 

)e  that  of  a  m"n 

lous  in  purpose, 

el  Garcia  has  at 

on.  ales  and  the 

Hermanos  have 

her  Mother  the 

ling  for  those  of 

nd  him  with  the 
lis  surroundings ; 

sword  ui)on  the 
n  tlie  stone  step. 

false  note  in  the 
loioiKUit  memory 

with  a  half  eva- 
hat  he  lifted  his 
rador,  who  stood 


CHATA   AND   CHIJVITA. 


,;C5 


a  disordered  and  helpless  but  resolute  prisoner  upon  the 
steps  above  him. 

At  the  sound  of  voices  and  the  tramp  of  men,  Chata 
had  run  liastily  out  from  the  room  of  Dona  FeHz,  whose 
illness  had  approached  a  crisis.  The  press  of  men  pre- 
vented her  from  reaching  Don  Rafael,  who  imperatively 
signed  to  her  to  retreat.  Still  she  would  have  dared  much 
to  reach  him ;  but  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  triumphant 
countenance  of  the  man  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  she  drew 
back,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  fled  precipi- 
tately, —  in  fear  for  Sierself  perhaps,  but  more  with  an  in- 
stinctive feeling  that  her  presence  endangered  rather  than 
helped  her  foster-father.  That  the  General  Jose  Ramirez 
had  entered  Tres  Hermanos  in  a  mood  to  seize  any  pre- 
text to  assume  toward  it  and  its  people  the  role  of  an 
injured  and  desperate  man,  was  to  be  seen  at  a  glance. 
'  The  very  soldiers  had  already  divined  as  much,  and  were 
leading  their  horses  and  mules  to  drink  at  the  fountain, 
and  invading  the  arbor  and  lower  rooms ;  tbe  oiind  of 
their  jests  and  laughter  was  mingling  with  the  crash  of  the 
great  flower-pots,  carelessl}'  pushed  from  their  st-nnds,  anil 
the  sharp  crack  of  jars  of  the  quaint  ula'^k  "'id  gilded 
ware  of  Guadalajara,  which  ornamented  M  .  tor  idors. 

Chata  re-entered  the  room  of  the  sick  ■  -man,  with  pallid 
face  and  lips,  and  ej'es  expanding  witu  a  terror  such  as 
the  mere  sight  of  the  imminent  deslri^;  ion  of  material 
things  alone  could  not  have  occasioned,  'leriblc  had 
been  the  tales  she  ha(T  heard  of  houses,  laid  waste  and 
property  destroyed ;  yet  even  when  the  horrors  seemed 
about  to  be  repeated  around  her,  she  felt  that  she  could 
have  endured  them  bravelj'  as  among  the  chances  of  war 
had  not  this  invasion  brought  to  her  an  intensely  dreaded 
and  peculiar  danger.  She  passed  the  group  of  alarmed 
and  excited  women  who  gathered  at  the  bedside,  uttering 
exclamations  of  terror,  and  kneeling  at  the  head  of  the 
couch  she  clasped  in  her  own  the  hand  of  the  uui^'j  .scions 
Doiia  Feliz. 

"  Grandmother,  mv  dearest ! "  she  murmercd  in  a  low 
voice,  jet  full  of  agony;  "-'surely  he  will  not  tear  me 
from  thee  !     Oh,  rather  may  I  die  with  thee  !  " 

"  Oh,  by  the  saints,"  cried  the  voice  of  Dona  Rita  in 
her  ear,  "  for  my  child's  sake,  Chata,  rise  and  fly  to  him  ! 


I- 


*!«* 


■    i. 


>  ■       '.w  ■  \ 


%'h 


■  -tua 


p:.t 


If 


3G6 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


It  is  thou  only  who  canst  save  us.  What  did  I  tell  then  in 
El  Toro  ?  Dona  Isabel  has  ruined  us !  but  for  her  fool- 
hardiness  in  sending  aid  to  Gonzales  all  might  have  been 
well;  but  that  has  brought  the  wrath  of  Ramirez  upon 
Rafael !  "  She  turned  toward  her  prostrate  mother-in-law, 
with  something  very  like  fury,  clenching  her  hand  and 
crying,  "  Ah !  ah  !  j'our  clever  deception  will  not  seem  so 
happy  a  one  when  you  wake  to  find  it  has  killed  3^our  son ! 
That  is  what  you  deserve !  You  deceived  even  me.  Do 
you  think  had  I  known,  I  would  for  all  the  favor  promised 
me  have  played  mother  to  the  brat  of  Leon  Vallo  ?  " 

The  women  ceased  their  cries  to  listen  to  this  frantic 
outburst,  which  though  but  Greek  to  them,  had  a  sound 
of  mystery,  which  for  the  moment  deadened  their  ears  to 
the  increasing  tumult  without.  "  Leon  Valle  !  "  said  one 
in  an  awe-struck  voice,  —  "  that  was  the  Sefiora's  wicked 
brother." 

"'Leon  Vallc!"  echoed  Chata,  a  new  light  dawning 
upon  her.     "  Maria  Sanctissima,  can  it  be?" 

"  "What  more  natural? "  cried  Dona  Rita,  testily.  "  "Was 
he  ever  weary  of  extorting  some  proof  of  Dona  Isabol's 
devotion  ?  But  Dios  mio,  tliere  was  to  be  an  end  of  her 
infixtuation  !  Had  he  not  killed  her  child  ?  What  better 
chance  for  vengeance  was  she  to  find  than  to  conceal, 
destroy,  every  trace  of  his,  when  with  devilish  mockery 
ho  thrust  it  upon  her?  But  then  he  miglit  have  known 
it  was  like  thrusting  the  lamb  into  the  jav/s  of  the  wolf. 
On  my  faith,  girl,  it  maddens  me  to  see  you  standing 
there  motionless,  when  it  is  as  if  the  legions  of  Satanas 
himself  were  loose.  Go  !  go !  I  saj*,  to  soothe  him.  En- 
treat him  to  restrain  his  troops.  The  house  will  be  sacked. 
Who  knows  what  horrors  may  follow  !  " 

"  I  will  not  go  to  him,"  said  Chata,  slowly,  a  red  spot 
Ijurning  upon  either  cheek,  her  e3*es  dark  with  horror. 
"  If  he  is  indeed  the  man  3-ou  say,  will  he  not  defend  the 
home  of  his  sister?  If  I  am  his  child,  will  he  not  claim 
me?  If  he  docs,  I  must  submit;  but  go  to  him  —  ]\o ! 
To  save  the  hacienda  —  what  has  Doiia  Isabel  done  for 
me  ?    To  save  my  life  —  no  !  " 


XXXVIII. 


V'i 


In  the  few  moments  during  which  this  scene  had  passed, 
the  administrador  at  a  sign  from  the  General  had  been 
half  forced  —  though  he  made  no  attempt  at  resistance  — 
to  the  lower  corridor.  Thence  he  followed  his  captor  to  a 
dining-room,  where  a  servant  with  terrified  alacrity  was 
already  bringing  in  cups  of  chocolate  for  the  breakfast, 
while  a  woman  with  a  tray  of  small  loaves  of  sweet-bread 
in  her  hands  dropped  it  incontinently  at  sight  of  the  dreaded 
Ramirez.  He  laughed,  throwing  himself  into  a  chair,  and 
looking  around  him  with  the  furtive  glance  with  which 
men  involuntarily  regard  places  or  persons  connected  with 
memories  distasteful  or  horrifying.  There  was  an  image 
of  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe  at  one  end  of  the  apartment, 
with  a  small  lamp  burning  before  it.  He  crossed  himself, 
and  muttered  an  Ave  as  he  lc>oked  at  it ;  then  pointed 
to  a  second  chair  and  the  cups  of  chocolate. 

"  It  is  early,  Don  Rafael,"  he  said  lightly,  "  but  I  have 
a  soldier's  appetite,  which  the  fresh  air  has  sharpened,  — 
and  you  know  the  saying,  that  a  stomach  at  rest  makes  an 
active  brain  ;  so  accompany  me,  I  entreat,  in  breaking  tlie 
morning  fast,  and  then  let  us  to  business."  And  with  a 
show  of  inchfTerence,  which  imposed  far  better  upon  his  fol- 
lowers, who  made  an  interested  throng  around  the  door, 
tlian  upon  Don  Rafael,  hv.  tasted  the  chocolate  he  had  drawn 
to  his  side. 

The  administrador  remained  standing,  though  the  two 
soldiers,  who  had  each  held  an  arm,  roleased  their  grasp 
and  stepped  back.  Disconcerted  by  the  tliought  that  in 
his  dishabille  he  could  scarcely  present  a  dignified  figure , 
Don  Rafael  still  maintained  his  composure  sufficiently  to 
refuse  the  profl"ercd  rofreshmont  with  the  air  of  a  man  wlio 
questions  the  right  of  another  to  play  the  part  of  host,  — 
assuming,  in  fact,  toward  tlie  intruder  rather  the  attitude 
of  personal  than  of  political  hostility. 


.,;>•> 


\ 


:  I 


WH' 


m- 


Bi 


368 


CHATA   AND   CIUNITA, 


Ramirez  divined  this,  and  liis  face  darkened.  "  You 
know  me,  Don  Rafael,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  and  that 
I  am  a  man  to  take  no  denials." 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  administrador,  shortlj^  "  I  know 
you.  The  saints  must  have  blinded  me  that  I  was  so 
easily  deceived  upon  your  last  visit ;  but  you  had  always 
the  power  to  mask  your  face  at  will." 

"  Bah !  ever}'  man  has  a  dozen  countenances  at  his  com- 
mand, if  he  but  know  how  to  summon  them,"  replied  Ra- 
mirez, carelessly,  "  and  a  touch  of  art  to  fix  their  coloring, 
and  twist  the  eyebrows  or  moustache.  Why,  even  your 
mother  was  deceived !  Where  is  she  now  ?  Ah !  that 
woman  was  like  Isabel  herself;  1  swear  she  would  have 
killed  me,  even  when  she  seemed  to  love  me  most.  It  is 
the  way  of  women,  like  serpents,  to  twine  and  sting  at  the 
same  moment." 

"  My  mother  is  dying,"  said  Don  Rafael,  lifting  his 
eyes  for  a  moment  upon  the  face  of  the  image  of  Mary. 
"  Yet  living  or  dying,  it  is  not  for  a  man  to  hear  another 
speak  lightly  of  his  mother.  But  this  is  nothing  to  the 
purpose." 

"Nothing,"  replied  the  other,  accepting  the  rebuke; 
"  and  I  have  no  time  to  lose."  He  seemed  to  forget  the 
chocolate,  pushing  the  cup  from  him,  and  turning  as  if  to 
rise  from  the  chair.  "  Look  you,  Rafael,  what  money  did 
Isabel  leave  with  you?  Not  half  her  resources  went  in 
that  mad  freak  of  raising  a  troop  for  Gonzales." 

Perhaps  Don  Rafael  had  expected  the  question,  for  his 
countenance  remained  imperturbable.  "  There  are  horses 
and  cattle  and  corn  and  men,  still,"  he  answered.  "The 
administrador  of  Tres  Hermanos  can  do  nothing  to  de- 
fend thera ;  but  the  money,  —  by  Heaven  and  the  Holy 
Virgin,  its  hiding-place  is  known  only  to  him,  and  he  will 
die  before  you  ahall  have  another  dollar  to  add  to  those 
which  Lave  cost  so  much  blood  and  so  man}'  tears  !  " 

Ramirez's  eyes  flashed ;  yet  the  look  of  astonishment 
which  he  threw  upon  the  small,  half-clothed  man  was  as 
full  of  admiration  as  though  he  had  been  a  king  clad  in 
royal  robes.  But  even  a  king  would  not  have  thwarted 
Ramirez  with,  impunity. 

"You  ki;ow  me,"  he  reiterated  in  the  same  intonation 
witli  wlij'  h  b'.  had  before  spoken  the  words,  allowing  a 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


360 


long,  dark,  intimidating  gaze  to  rest  upon  the  face  of  Don 
liafael. 

''  Yes,  I  know  you,"  was  the  answer  as  before.  "  Yes, 
I  know  you ;  and  it  is  for  that  reason  I  have  said  that 
never  a  dollar  belonging  to  the  woman  you  have  so  foully 
wronged  shall  pass  into  your  hands.  Thank  Heaven  that 
she  is  not  here  to  be  tempted  !  Thank  God  that  while  the 
identity  of  Ramirez  with  the  bane  and  curse  of  the  house 
of  Garcia  has  been  shaping  itself  in  my  mind,  no  hint  of 
the  truth  has  been  in  hers !  " 

"  I  do  not  believe  it  I  "  cried  Ramirez,  violently.  "  She 
hates  me  !  for  the  sake  of  that  puling  boy  and  her  dotard 
husband  she  hates  me  still !  '  The  bane  of  the  house  of 
Garcia,*  said  you.  Why,  what  man  among  them  has  a 
name  beyond  his  own  door-stone  but  me?  And  the 
women !  Ah,  ah !  What  saint  would  have  saved  the 
fame  of  the  women  of  the  house  of  Garcia  had  it  not 
been  for  me?" 

Don  Rafael  glanced  around  him  warningl}-,  —  the  room 
was  full  of  strange  faces,  beginning  to  light  with  wonder- 
ing curiosity  at  this  strange  conversation,  so  different  in 
substance  from  that  usual  between  the  guerilla  and  his 
victims.  This  was  no  place  in  which  to  talk  of  women ; 
jet  Don  Rafael  himself  desired  to  avoid  a  private  inter- 
view with  this  man,  while  Ramirez  on  his  part  assumed  an 
ostentatious  air  of  having  nothing  to  conceal,  —  nothing 
that  he  might  be  ashamed  his  followers  should  learn.  Ho 
knew,  in  fact,  that  at  that  crisis,  surrounded  as  he  was  by 
the  most  unscrupulous  and  desperate  characters,  the  pres- 
tige of  his  mad  career  might  be  advantageously  heightened 
rather  than  diminished,  if  he  would  keep  his  ascendency. 
Don  Rafael  read  his  thought,  and  lest  in  very  hardihood 
his  opponent  should  be  led  to  accusations  or  revelations  it 
would  be  impossible  for  him  to  leave  unanswered,  he  began 
cue  of  those  long  and  desultory  conversations  that,  while 
a[)parentl3-  ft'fink  and  unstudied,  are  triumphs  in  the  art  of 
avoiding  or  concealing  the  real  subject  at  issue. 

Ramirez,  well  as  he  knew  the  tricks  of  the  genuine 
ranchero,  whether  of  the  higher  or  lower  grade,  ^7as  him- 
self for  a  time  deceived,  —  for,  with  far  less  than  his 
usual  astuteness,  he  allowed  himself  to  lapse  into  occa- 
sional denunciations,  and  to  make  demands  of  the  admin- 

24 


^     It 


370 


ClIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


\a^ 


1^ 


li  < 


rffi 


^^'11 


istrador  tliat  increased  the  curiosity  and  interest  of  his 
\\  tenors.  Tlieso  did  not  in  an}'  .legrue  slialvc  tlie  con- 
stancy of  Don  Uafacl,  who,  wii.  Uie  tliought  tluit  tlie  crisis 
of  ills  life  was  approaching,  cr<  .,:jcd  his  arms  upon  liis 
breast  and  fortified  his  courage  with  the  remembrance  of 
the  vows  by  wliich  he  iiad  pledged  himself,  and  the  less 
heroic  satisfaction  that  he  promised  himself  then  in  tlivvart- 
ing  tlic  plans  of  a  man  whose  will  had  been  as  triumphant 
as  it  was  insatiable. 

Meanwhile,  tlie  tumult  in  the  house  increased.  A  wild 
rumor  had  spread  tliat  the  General  Jose  Ramirez  was  by 
riglit  the  master  of  the  place  and  all  it  contained.  Some 
said  he  was  the  lover,  others  the  brother,  of  Dona  Isabel. 
At  last,  even  the  name  by  which  he  had  been  known  there 
began  to  be  shouted,  though  the  sound  of  it  was  less 
po[)ular  than  that  by  which  he  had  won  his  wa}'  later  to 
fame.  Still,  it  gave  a  certain  authority  for  license  where 
there  had  been  before  a  show  of  restraint ;  and  a  speedy 
assault  was  made  upon  the  store-rooms  and  granaries,  and 
even  upon  the  inner  chambers  and  courts,  which  con- 
tained nothing  but  furniture  and  ornaments,  —  useless  to 
soldiers  on  the  march,  or  even  as  booty  for  their  wives 
and  followers. 

Ramirez  listened  to  the  tumult  without  attempting  to  in- 
terlV  re.  Evidently  his  object  was  to  break  the  resolution 
of  Sanciiez  by  an  exhibition  of  the  destructive  and  un- 
scrupulous character  of  his  followers.  IJut  Don  Rafael 
never  winced  except  once,  when  the  cry  of  a  woman  i)ierced 
the  apartment. 

Ramirez  heard  it  also.  "  Ah  !  it  came  from  the  kitchens, 
from  some  scullery-maid,"  he  commented  after  a  moment. 
"  Now,  Don  Rafael,  you  see  and  hear  for  yourself  what 
a  crew  of  devils  I  have  with  me, — just  tlie  riff'-rai!'  of 
the  mountains,  whom  that  cursed  Pedro  failed  to  wile 
away  from  me.  Caramha!  never  was  a  surprise  gi-eater. 
It  would  not  have  happened  but  that  like  a  fool  1  lingered 
near  ¥A  Toro  waiting  for  a  chance  to  pounce  upon  Gon- 
zal  ;s.  Never  let  a  private  vengeance  sway  the  judgment," 
he  added  sententiously.  "  A  thousand  devils  !  It  seems 
as  if  the  hacienda  were  tumbling  about  our  ears !  Yet  at 
a  word  I  can  stop  it.     Where  is  the  money  ?  " 

"-  If  the  din  never  ceases  till  I  reveal  that,"  answered 


n 


CIIA7A   AND  CIIINirA, 


371 


DonTlafticl,  ilogf^cdlvi  "  you  will  never  have  your  reveiij^o 
on  Gonzales ;  for  vvlnit  I  have  Hworn  1  have  sworn.  The 
lloeks  ami  herds  1  ean't  defend  ;  and  what  are  a  fi!W  hun- 
dred beeves  or  horses?  IJut  the  money;  no,  l)y  (iod !  if 
Dona  Isabel  herself  should  eonunand  it,  1  would  not  sutler 
that  another  eoin  should  touch  your  bloody  hand ! " 

Ramirez  started  up  with  an  oath.  Involuntarily  ho 
glanced  at  his  hand.  It  wou.a  not  have  surprised  him  to 
have  seen  it  literally  red,  —  and,  Strang  sly  enough,  the 
blood  gushing  from  the  fatal  wound  he  had  (U  ale  the  Amer- 
ican, just  from  the  arms  ofllerlinda,  ratlu."  than  that  of 
his  nei)hew  or  Don  Gregorio,  was  that  which  presented 
itself  to  his  mind.  He  walked  the  room  in  a  new  and  un- 
defmable  excitement.  The  sight  of  Don  liafael,  to  whom 
the  destruction  of  the  property  that  was  precious  as  his  life 
seemed  as  nothing  to  the  pleasure  of  bailling  the  man  he 
abhorred  of  the  monc}'  he  believed  absolutely  necessary  to 
his  success  in  leading  troops  to  encounter  the  well-rein- 
lb  reed  and  well-equipi)cd  Gonzales,  revealed  to  him  the 
hatred  and  horror  in  which  he  was  held.  Doubtless  that  of 
the  servant  was  but  a  mere  reflection  of  that  of  Dona  Isabel. 

Well,  let  them  hate  him  with  reason  ;  let  the  wild  moun- 
taineers tak(!  their  own  sport  unchecked.  He  heard  one  of 
the  clerks,  tlying  rather  than  running  through  the  corridor, 
exclaim  that  Don  Rafael  must  come,  or  there  would  be  a 
famine  in  the  place  before  the  next  harvest ;  that  the  gretit 
storehouses  of  maize  had  been  forced  open,  and  the  con- 
tents scattered  throughout  the  village  for  horses  and  men 
to  tread  under  their  feet ;  and  that  the  very  oxen  and 
sheep  were  revelling  in  the  abundance,  liable  to  destroy 
themselves  b}-^  very  excess,  even  if  the  soldiers  should  fail 
to  drive  them  before  them. 

Ramirez  and  the  administrador  glanced  at  each  other. 
They  had  not  spoken  for  many  minutes,  each  feeling  the 
other  implacable,  3'et  each  perhaps  believing  that  the  wan- 
ton destruction  would  appeal  to  the  other's  weaker  or  better 
nature.  Ramirez  ^wws  crimson,  almost  black,  with  inward 
rage, — rage  as  great  with  those  who  were  wreaking  de- 
struction on  his  sister's  house,  as  with  this  insignilicant 
yet  determined  man  who  withstood  it.  Don  Rafael  was 
white  as  death,  Iiis  lips  blue,  his  eyes  strained ;  again  the 
crv  of  a  woman  scjunded  on  the  an- !     It  came  from  above. 


^^. 


^_ 


^, 


^. 


.ci.;« 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


// 


1.0 


I.I 


[f:  K  III 

t  1^    12.0 


12.5 
2.2 


1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

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► 

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% 


'%  '■?■ 


cm    ^^ 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^^^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


<v 


t/j 


372 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


\m 


!"i,; 


He  started  toward  the  door.    A  dozen  hands  seized  him. 
Ramirez  turned  upon  him  with  his  drawn  sword. 

"  Where  is  my  daughter?  "  he  demanded  in  a  voice  of 
fury.  "  I  will  find  a  way  to  force  the  gold  from  you,  but 
first  my  daughter,  —  where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Your  daughter?  "  echoed  Don  Rafael  in  a  tone  of  such 
absolute  amazement  that  even  Ramirez  was  for  a  second 
distracted  from  his  rage. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter !  She  whom  3'ou  have  aided  Isabel 
to  hide  from  me  all  these  years.  Faith,  it  was  a  pretty 
trick,  —  an  eye  for  an  eye,  with  a  vengeance.  But  after 
all  it  was  a  petty  plot,  and  soon  fathomed.  You  were 
less  jealous  of  flesh  and  blood  than  of  this  cursed  gold, 
and  gave  me  the  first  inkling  of  her  whereabouts  j^ourself." 

"  I?  "  exclaimed  the  admiuistrador ;  "I?  What  know 
I  of  a  child  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that  is  what  3'ou  must  satisfy  me  of.  Where  is 
she,  —  the  Chata,  whom  you  nodded  and  hinted  about  so 
mysteriously  in  j'our  cups  so  many  years  ago  ?  " 

Don  Rafael  —  if  it  were  possible  —  turned  a  shade  whiter 
than  before ;  his  form  seemed  to  shrink,  his  heart  sank 
with  guilty  shame  and  absolute  terror.  How  well  he  re- 
membered those  few  words,  which,  though  so  indirect  and 
apparently  unimportant,  he  h;  d  thought  of  with  remorse  a 
thousand  times.  And  to  what  a  terrible,  though  utterly 
unforeseen,  conclusion  they  had  led  this  man  !  He  lifted 
his  hands  above  his  head. 

"By  the  Blessed  Mother,  I  swear,"  he  said,  "that  I 
know  not  what  you  mean !  I  know  nothing  of  a  child  of 
}ours !  " 

Ramirez  looked  at  him  contemptuousl3\  "You  will 
tell  me  next  that  the  child  your  wife  denies  is  yours,"  he 
said. " 

In  effect  it  had  been  upon  the  lips  of  Don  Rafael  to 
claim  Chata  as  his  daughter,  as  he  had  done  a  thousand 
times  before.  Was  she  not  his  before  all  the  world  ?  Had 
she  not  been  from  the  very  moment  the  eyes  of  his  wife 
had  rested  upon  her?  But  she  had  betrayed  the  con- 
fidence to  which  she  had  been  but  partlall^-^  admitted,  — 
Rita!     He  hesitated,  and  Ramirez  seized  the  advantage. 

"  You  dare  not !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Your  wife  has  con- 
fessed all  :  it  will  never  do  to  trust  a  woman  with  a  secret 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


373 


said,  "that  I 


in  companj'  of  a  man  who  cares  to  learn  it,  though  very 
perversity  might  keep  her  silent  with  a  world  of  women." 
The  sight  of  the  discomfiture  of  Don  Rafael  had  restored 
to  Ramirez  some  pprtion  of  good  nature.  "  The  screecii- 
ing  has  ceased,"  he  added.  "  Yet  I  am  a  fond  father.  \. 
would  assure  myself  of  my  child's  safety.  Where  is  the 
girl?  I  must  and  will  see  her,  if  but  to  tell  iior  why  1 
played  her  false  last  week.    Where  is  my  daughter?  " 

Don  Rafael's  face,  which  throughout  this  interview  had 
retained  its  pallor,  crimsoned  with  excess  of  agitation. 
Tlie  mystery  of  Cbata's  visit  to  the  hacienda  was  revealed. 
Had  she  met  this  man  ?  Did  she  know  —  did  she  believe  ? 
He  remembered  her  changed  aspect,  her  silence,  her  tears. 
Ramirez  stood  watching  him  with  impatience,  3'et  triumph. 
The  crimson  flush  convicted  the  administrador.  Don 
Rafael  strove  in  vain  to  steady  tlic  glance  of  his  suffused 
and  burning  eyes,  to  still  the  throbbing  of  his  temples, 
while  he  sought  to  command  the  most  impressive  and 
convincing  words  in  which  to  answer  and  forever  silence 
this  mad  assumption.  But  none  presented  themselves. 
The  group  around  listened  breathlessly,  more  excited 
than  Ramirez  himself.  They  loolsed  silently  from  face 
to  face  of  the  two  men  who  were  engaged  in  this  singular 
dispute.  Inside  the  room  one  might  have  heard  a  feather 
float  through  the  air,  so  deep  was  the  silence  ;  and  at  last, 
in  despair  of  finding  imposing  words,  the  administrador 
uttered  the  simple  denial,  "  Chata  is  not  your  child." 

Most  of  the  men  drew  back  for  the  moment  convinced. 
Not  so  Ramirez.  "  It  is  false  ! "  he  cried.  "  I  have  your 
own  maudhn  hint,  and  your  wife's  positive  confession,  that 
the  girl  is  neither  hers  nor  yours." 

Don  Rafael  grew  pale  again.  There  was  that  in  his 
face  which  would  have  augured  ill  to  Dona  Rita  had  she 


seen  it;  but  he  said  with  an  effort,  "  I  will  not 


give 


my 


wife  the  lie.    The  child  is  neither  mine  nor  hers  !  " 

"  Then  whose  —  whose  but  mine?  "  demanded  Ramirez 
fiercely. 

Don  Rafael  paused  a  moment  as  before.  In  an  instant 
he  had  recalled  the  circumstances  that  had  attended  the 
adoption  of  the  child.  Rita  had  been  3'oung,  placable, 
easily  pleased  with  a  gift :  the  fewer  confidants  the  bet- 
ter ;  it  was  ever  the  duty  of  a  Mexican  wife  to  obey  un- 


374 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


qucstioningly,  —  she  had  been  obedient  then  ;  it  had  not 
been  necessary  that  she  should  know  more  than  it  had 
been  wise  to  tell.  Don  Rafael  drew  a  deep  breath  of 
relief.  Ramirez  and  the  group  around  him  watched  him 
narrowly. 

"  Declare  then ! "  queried  Ramirez  at  last,  "  whose 
daughter  is  she  if  not  mine  ?  " 

"I  will  not  say,"  answered  Don  Rafael;  "but  I  do 
swear  she  is  not  yours.  Stay,"  he  added,  struck  with 
an  idea.  '*  What  reason  have  you  for  thinking  she  is 
yours  ? " 

"Reason!"  echoed  Ramirez  scornfully;  "because  fif- 
teen years  ago,  more  or  less,  —  perhaps  you  have  reason 
here  to  remember  wtU  that  year,  —  I  sent  my  child  here, 
to  Dona  Isabel :  it  was  a  whim  of  mine  that  she  should 
have  tender  nurture  and  decent  training.  I  was  a  fool  to 
trust  a  woman's  love.  Of  course  Isabel  remembered  her 
own  bantling,  though  I  had  even  some  foolish  thought 
that  the  little  one  I  sent  might  console  her,  —  most  women 
have  hearts  for  baby  wants  and  fancies  that  sicken  men. 
Of  course  for  her  it  was  a  chance  for  revenge  too  good  to 
be  lost.  I  have  been  in  two  minds  ever  smoe  I  knew  how 
she  scorned  ray  trust  whether  to  be  angry  or  pleased  witli 
you  for  aiding  her  purpose.  But  let  it  pass ;  yiel*  the 
child  and  the  money  quietly  and  "  —  he  looked  over  his 
shoulder  with  an  impatient  frown  —  "that  mfernal  tumult 
and  destruction  shall  cease.     If  not  —  " 

"  I  will  yield  neither  the  girl  nor  the  money ; "  replied 
Don  Rafael.  "  They  nre  neither  of  them  mine  nor  yours ; 
but  I  have  possession  of  both,  and  will  keep  them. — 
Surely  Rita  has  both  girls  in  the  secret  recess,  as  we  have 
always  planned  in  such  a  case  as  this,"  he  thought,  with  a 
qualm  at  the  remembrance  of  his  wife's  treason,  as  revealed 
by  Ramirez.  "  Surely  at  such  a  time  she  will  protect  u 
young  damsel,  even  though  she  be  !iot  her  own  child." 

Ramirez  looked  at  him  with  a  lowering  brow,  repeating 
ajrain,  "  If  not  mine,  whose  child  is  she?  B\  Heaven,  I 
know  she  is  mine  !  There  could  not  be  on  all  the  earth  a 
creature  in  whom  Dona  Isabel  or  Feliz  or  yourself  could 
have  so  deep  an  interest  as  to  trouble  yourself  for  life 
with  his  child.  It  is  incredible,  impossible.  Unless  she 
is  —  "     He  paused  on  the  name,  looked  round  him, 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


375 


last,    "  whose 


clinched  his  hands,  advanced  to  Don  Rafael,  and  gazed 
searchingly  into  his  face. 

Don  Rafael  did  not  flinch.  Ramirez  burst  into  a  laugh. 
"  1  would  have  killed  j'ou  had  you  dared  even  to  have 
looked  askance,"  he  said.  "  Caramba!  the  women  of 
tlie  Garcias  may  be  fools  or  devils, —  they  have  shown  the 
spirit  of  both;  but  if  a  man  should  ever  kill  another 
because  of  one  of  them,  it  would  be  for  his  daring,  not 
in  revenge  of  his  triumph." 

Did  these  words  indicate  a  tardy  repentance,  a  convic- 
tion that  Ilcrlinda  had  been  indiscreet  but  innocent  ?  Don 
Rafael  had  no  time  to  discuss  the  question  with  himself; 
but  he  had  such  new  insight  into  the  mind  of  Ramirez  that 
he  was  warned  from  giving  any  fresh  cause  of  offence. 
Had  he  had  no  previous  reasons,  it  would  have  been  a  suffi- 
cient one  for  him  to  keep  inviolate  the  secret  which  he  had 
sworn  to  preserve  to  his  life's  end.  In  his  present  humor, 
the  man  with  whom  he  had  to  deal  would  in  his  baffled  and 
vengeful  rage  have  spared  neither  the  name  nor  fame  of 
even  his  own  mother,  had  occasion  oflfered  to  tempt  him  to 
blacken  it.  Don  Rafael  believed  the  women  of  his  house- 
hold as  weL  the  money  safe  in  the  hiding  places  he  had 
'ionstructed  for  them,  —  the  first  known  to  Doiia  Feliz  and 
DoSa  Rita,  the  second  to  himself  alone.  To  anv  fate  that 
might  befall  himself  he  looked  with  stoical  courage  if  not 
indifference.  Leaning  against  the  wall,  he  crossed  his 
arms  defiantly  and  awaited  events. 


If 


lil    ''■ 


J.lHi 


i.    •■! 


i  1 


'  t| 


i 

( 

1 
i 

1 

i 

II 

1      1 

HI 

.'  '■  . 

XXXIX. 

At  high  noon  a  terrible  and  heartrending  wail  of  anguish 
sounded  through  the  house,  penetrating  with  dismal  insis- 
tence through  the  clamor  of  the  soldiery  anci  the  thousand 
indescribable  noises  of  the  animals,  which  had  been  hastily 
collected,  and  which  added  the  element  of  mere  brute  be- 
wilderment to  the  scarcely  more  reasonably  restrained  ter- 
ror of  the  people. 

Ramirez  had  recognized  the  obstinate  defiance  of  the 
administrador.  More  than  once  before  he  had  dealt  with 
others  as  tenacious  of  the  interests  of  those  they  served. 
He  had  no  time  to  lose  in  vain  persuasions,  and  had  him- 
self conducted  the  search  throughout  the  vast  building,  of 
which  he  believed  he  knew  every  nook  and  corner.  But 
he  had  to  his  amazement  and  chagrin  found  neither  treas- 
ure nor  an}'  member  of  the  family  of  the  administrador 
save  the  apparently  dying  Dona  Feliz.  After  a  fruitless 
endeavor  to  recall  her  to  consciousness,  he  left  her  with  a 
curse,  and  returning  to  her  son,  assaulted  him  with  men- 
aces, alternated  with  fair  promises,  —  the  one  as  little 
regarded  as  the  other. 

Upon  one  subject  only  would  Don  Rafael  permit  himself 
to  speak ;  and  to  that  Ramirez,  in  his  rage,  refused  to 
listen.  The  suggestion  that  his  daughter,  if  indeed  he 
had  a  reason  to  seek  one  there,  miglit  prove  to  bo  Chinita, 
the  foster-daughter  of  Pedro  Gomez,  he  received  with  utter 
contempt.  lie  remembered  her  well,  he  said  ;  an  imp  as 
black  as  Pedro  himself,  —  black  as  he  must  be  now,  scorch- 
ing in  Hades.  That  little  demon  was  none  o?  his,  while 
Chata  had  the  very  face  of  his  mother,  —  the  face  of  an 
angel.  Ah  !  ah  !  that  was  indeed  a  daring  jest,  that  Isabel 
should  strive  to  palm  off  upon  him  the  brat  of  her  door- 
keeper! Once  long  before,  like  the  witch  she  was,  the 
girl  had  stopped  him  aid  thrust  into  his  hand  an  amulet, 
—  he  drew  it  from  his  pocket,  and  cast  it  from  him.    By 


CHAT  A   AND   CHINITA. 


377 


rail  of  anguish 
I  dismal  insis- 
,  the  thousand 
id  been  hastily 
nere  brute  be- 
rcstrained  ter- 

iefiance  of  the 
had  dealt  with 
e  they  served. 
,  and  had  him- 
ist  building,  of 
i  corner.    But 
\  neither  treas- 
administrador 
ftcr  a  fruitless 
eft  her  with  a 
lim  with  men- 
one  as  little 


permit  himself 
;,  refused  to 
if  indeed  he 
3  to  be  Chinita, 
jived  with  utter 
aid  ;  an  imp  as 
be  now,  scorch- 
0."  his,  while 
the  face  of  an 
est,  tlia.t  Isabel 
at  of  her  door- 
1  she  was,  the 
and  an  amulet, 
:rom  him.    By 


the  way,  now  Pedro  was  dead,  if  Rafael  still  believed  her 
worth  a  thought,  he  liad  better  see  in  such  a  day  as  this 
that  she  had  some  other  protector.  She  must  be  nearly 
a  woman  now ! 

Ramirez  fell  into  greater  rage  when  he  learned  that  Dona 
Isabel  had  taken  charge  of  this  despised  waif.  He  swore 
that  it  was  in  mockery  of  himself;  and  Don  Rafael  soon 
perceiving  that  every  word  he  uttered  was  construed  as  an 
attempt  to  deceive,  and  fearing  that  at  some  time  it  might 
bring  evil  upon  the  girl  to  whom,  whether  she  were  the 
daughter  of  Ramirez  or  no,  he  certainly  desired  no  harm, 
the  administrador  became  utterl}'  silent,  in  his  heart  com- 
mending the  prudence  of  Rita  in  following  this  time  with 
exactness  his  i"  structions,  and  condoning  the  treason  of 
which  by  the  assurances  of  Ramirez  he  had  been  forced 
to  believe  her  guilty. 

In  truth,  although  at  first  the  alarmed  and  not  too  scru- 
pulous woman  had  urged  Chata  to  secure  the  safety  of  her- 
self and  her  child  by  claiming  the  protection  of  Ramirez,  as 
time  passed  and  he  made  no  movement  toward  such  recog- 
nition she  began  to  distrust  the  effect  it  might  produce  upon 
the  renowned  guerilla.  He  and  his  soldiers  were  there  for 
plunder  and  rapine,  not  paternal  sentiment.  As  the  cries 
of  the  women-servants  and  villagers  reached  her,  the  reso- 
lution to  seek  safety  in  concealment  seized  her.  Though 
still  far  from  wishing  to  conceal  Chata  from  Ramirez,  to 
whom  the  accidental  sight  of  her  might  recall  some  sense 
of  mercy  or  tenderness,  she  feared  both  him  and  her  hus- 
band too  greatl}'  to  dare  leave  her  to  the  chance  of  insult 
from  the  licentious  soldiery.  But  Chata  absolutel}'  refused 
to  leave  Doila  Feliz,  from  whose  side  even  the  servants 
had  fled ;  and  it  was  her  scream  that  had  penetrated  to 
the  rooms  below,  when,  by  the  friendly  force  of  Don 
Alonzo,  she  was  immured  with  Dona  Rita  and  Rosario 
in  the  secret  recess,  which  Don  Rafael  had  constructed 
with  a  vague  apprehension  of  such  an  emergency. 

It  chanced  that  this  recess,  which  was  ni  the  immensely 
thick  outer  wall  of  the  great  house,  was  dimly  lighted  and 
ventilated  by  a  loop-hole  so  small  as  to  be  barely  visible 
from  without,  but  which  opened  funnel-like  toward  the  in- 
side of  the  apartment.  Through  this  loop-hole  these  three 
women,  whose  voices  were  quite  inaudible  to  those  either 


"^rsmm 


''M: 


? 


.;,?       , 


!li: 


378 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


within  or  without  the  building,  hoard  confiipcdly  the  village 
cries,  and  caught  uncertain  glimpses  of  the  space  outside  the 
hacienda  gates.  After  what  seemed  hours  of  incarcera- 
tion, during  which  Rosario  had  fretted  and  slept,  and 
Dona  Rita  had  alternately  chided  and  lamented,  while 
Chata  entreated  to  be  released  that  she  might  return  to 
the  side  of  Dona  Feliz,  tliey  saw  with  anxious  surprise  a 
crowd  gathering  upon  the  sandy  slope ;  not  of  the  sol- 
dier}' alone,  but  the  people  of  the  hacienda,  —  clerks,  work- 
men, women  who  were  wringing  their  hands  and  uttering 
sharp  cries  of  terror  and  entreaty,  which  ended  in  that 
deep  wail,  which  seemed  to  signify  some  agonizing 
catastrophe. 

Dofia  Rita  was  the  first  to  divine  wha*^  was  happening. 
"Maria  Purissima!"  she  cried.  "Is  \x  possible  Rafael 
is  as  mad  as  the  administrador  of  Los  Chalcos,  —  that 
he  has  refused  some  demand?  Does  he  not  remember 
how  Ramirez  caused  that  poor  foolish  one  to  be  hanged 
without  mercy !  O  my  husband,  my  husband !  Oh  1 
has  he  no  thought  for  me,  for  his  child,  that  he  will  sac- 
rifice his  life  for  Dona  Isabel  ?  How  will  she  thank  him  ? 
Whoever  thinks  twice  of  the  foolhardy  obstinacy  of  an 
administrador  ?  " 

Chata  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Give  me  the  key!"  she 
cried.  "  Let  me  go !  Now  if  Ramirez  is  my  father,  he 
shall  prove  it !  Would  he  deny  his  daughter  the  life  of  her 
foster-father?    Give  me  the  key!" 

"  No,  no ! "  screamed  Dofia  Rita,  "  the  place  is  full 
of  ruflfians.  Ramirez  himself  is  a  tiger !  I  —  "  but  Chata 
had  wrenched  the  key  from  her  numbed  and  shaking 
hands,  and  thrusting  it  in  the  lock  had  turned  the  grat- 
ing wards. 

When  she  rushed  into  the  corridors  they  were  empty,  — 
there  was  a  sight  to  behold  elsewhere.  On  she  flew,  not 
noticing  that  Dona  Rita  and  Rosario  followed,  and  that 
their  shrieks  rose  with  hers,  as  in  a  minute  or  less  they 
reached  the  outer  court,  and  strove  to  penetrate  the  throng 
that  filled  it  and  extended  to  the  village  beyond. 

Within  the  high  arch  of  the  doorway,  clear  against  the 
deep  blue  of  the  mid-day  sky,  swayed  the  figure  of  a  man, 
—  of  Rafael  Sanchez.  Below,  sword  in  hand,  stood  Ra- 
mirez and  two  pantiiig  laborers  who  that  instant  had 


C IT  ATA   AND   CITTNITA. 


379 


ipcclly  the  village 
jpacc  outside  the 
r8  of  inearcora- 

and  slept,   and 
lamented,  while 

might  return  to 
ixious  surprise  a 

not  of  the  sol- 
,  — clerks,  wo vk- 
mds  and  uttering 
3h  ended  in  that 

some    agonizing 

V  was  happening. 
\  ])OSsible  Rafael 
(  Chalcos,  —  tliat 
lie  not  remembor 
one  to  be  hangeO 

husband  1  Oh  I 
,  that  he  will  sac- 
ill  she  thank  him? 

obstinacy  of  an 

le  the  key ! "  she 
5  is  my  father,  he 
hter  the  life  of  her 

*the  place  is  full 

I  __  "  but  Chata 

ibed   £i"d  shaking 

d  turned  the  grat- 

ley  were  empty,  — 
On  she  flew,  not 
followed,  and  that 
linute  or  less  they 
snetrate  the  throng 
be3'ond. 

/,  clear  against  the 
phe  figure  of  a  man, 
in  hand,  stood  Ra- 
that  instant  had 


accomplished  his  decree.  Around  them  were  gathered 
scores  of  armed  men,  evil-eyed,  with  the  ferocity  of 
brutes  in  their  faces ;  and  Ramirez  stoc'i  pre-eminent, 
a  very  demon. 

The  crowd  parted  like  water  before  the  shrieks  of  the 
three  women.  In  a  moment  Chata  readied  the  side  of 
Ramirez,  and  fifasned  his  sword.  "Spare  him!  spare 
him !  "  she  deinaiiucd  rather  than  entreated.  "  If  1  am 
j'our  daughter,  cut  the  rope  I  Spare  him,  and  do  as  you 
like  with  me ;  else  I  swear  I  will  die  with  him  rather 
than  be  known  as  your  child !  " 

The  women  were  on  their  knees,  —  not  Dofia  Rita  and 
Ros;r7rio  alone,  but  all  those  of  the  village.  Sobs  and  en- 
treaties fille(^  the  air.  Ramirez  threw  a  glance  of  trium- 
phant admiration  upon  Chata,  and  put  one  arm  around 
her,  while  he  raised  the  other,  pointing  with  a  nod  to 
the  swaying  figure. 

A  man  sprang  to  cut  the  rope,  and  the  administrador  fell 
into  the  dozen  arms  stretched  out  to  receive  him.  Chata 
saw  with  infinite  joy  that  he  was  not  dead.  He  threw  up 
his  arms,  gasped,  opened  wide-staring  eyes.  A  moment 
later,  she  was  hurried  away.  Half-fainting  though  she 
was,  she  was  glad  to  escape  that  embrace  from  which 
she  dared  not  shrink. 

"  Ah,  Rafael,  you  are  conquered,  —  I  have  the  girl ! 
And  now  where  is  the  gold  ? "  she  heard  Ramirez  ex- 
claim, and  saw  the  gesture  of  defiance  with  which  the 
scarce  crascious  victim  answered  this  demand. 

An  he  sr  later  Chata  was  riding  by  the  side  of  the  baf- 
fled Ramirez.  She  knew  not  whether  her  foster-father  was 
living  or  dead,  and  dared  not  ask ;  but  stifling  her  sobs, 
looked  back  through  a  mist  of  iears  upon  the  desolated 
hacienda.  It  was  incredible  even  to  her  horrified  and 
longing  gaze,  the  terrible  devastation  that  had  been 
worked  in  a  few  short  hours.  Seemingly  to  complete 
its  ruin,  a  thunder-cloud,  which  had  been  lurking  over 
the  valley,  discharged  its  contents  over  the  devoted 
house.  Upon  the  hills  the  sun  shone ;  Chata  was  safe 
from  the  fury  of  the  storm.  And  3'et  she  felt  as  though 
the  very  wrath  of  heaven  had  burst  over  her. 

"  Caramha^  Chatita !  thou  wilt  make  a  soldier's  daughter 
yet ! "  Ramirez  was  exclaiming.    "  By  my  faith,  I  am  proud 


380 


CI/ATA   AND   CiriNfTA. 


of  thcc ! "  In  spite  of  the  iinattaincd  goUl,  ho  pressed  on 
in  rare  good  humor.  Ilia  fury,  like  tlie  storm,  was  quickly 
expended.  "  And  by  our  Lady  of  Glory  I  am  glad  that 
you  came  in  time  to  save  that  obstinate  fool,  Kafacl. 
lie  has,  after  all  is  said,  served  me  a  good  turn  in  aiding 
Isabel  to  put  what  she  meant  for  a  shabby  trick  upon  me. 
(Jaramha!  It  was  clever  of  her.  I  should  never  have  dis- 
covered it  but  for  a  slip  of  the  tongue  on  Kafael's  part 


would  have  noticed,  and 
to  my  mother,  —  the 


angels 


but  for 
give 


thy 
her 


which  no  one  else 
wonderful  likeness 
good  rest  I " 

Chata  could  not  be  grateful  for  this  favor  of  nature  ;  it 
seemed  to  her  indeed  the  bitterest  spite  that  could  have 
been  wreaked  upon  her.  She  turned  her  eyes  upon  the 
face  of  Uaniii'cz  with  a  questioning  glance,  which  startled 
him  :  those  gray  eyes,  limpid  and  clear  as  the}'  were,  were 
far  different  from  the  large,  languorous,  black  ones  of  his 
mother,  —  yet  not  unfamiliar.  VVhere  had  he  seen  such 
before?  The  Inquiry  was  not  worth  a  special  effort  of 
memory.  P^nough  that  the  eyes  were  beautiful.  The  very 
softness  and  appeal  in  their  expression  held  a  peculiar 
charm  for  this  fierce,  hard  spirit,  lie  had  begun  a  denun- 
ciation of  the  revenge  practised  against  him  by  his  sister, 
but  he  abruptly  paused.  What  if  this  young  creature 
knew  nothing  of  those  wild  deeds  of  bygone  years  ?  Why 
shock  her  tender  and  immature  mind  by  the  recital  of  such 
episodes  as  she  would  view  but  at  their  darkest  ?  For  tho 
first  time  in  his  life  he  felt  the  impossibility  of  impressing 
his  hearer  with  the  daring  rather  than  the  villany  of  his 
deeds,  and  rode  beside  her  in  silence,  furtively  watching 
her  face,  which  with  wonderful  control,  indicating  a  latent 
strength  of  character,  she  suffered  to  reveal  none  of  tho 
horror  or  fear  with  which  he  inspired  her,  but  only  the 
natural  grief  with  which  she  had  been  separated  from  the 
home  of  her  childhood. 

Indeed,  the  thought  of  Dona  Feliz  was  tho  dominant  one 
in  Chata's  mind,  and  prevented  any  serious  grief  or  alarm 
as  to  her  own  situation.  The  question  of  her  own  safety  or 
future  position  troubled  her  little.  It  was  the  fact  of  her 
separation  from  the  beloved  a  stricken  friend,  who  was 
so  dependent  upon  her  care,  u.,i  her  absolute  horror  of 
the  murderer  of  the  American,  —  for  as  such  Ramirez 


CHATA   AND  CIIINITA, 


381 


the  dominant  one 

ous  grief  or  alarm 

her  own  safety  or 

as  the  fact  of  her 

_jn  friend,  who  was 

absolute  horror  of 

as  such  Ramirez 


ever  figured  in  her  thoughts,  —  wliicli  rendered  it  ao  dilll- 
cult  a  task  for  her  to  retain  her  seU-possession  and  answer 
with  cahnness  the  few  questions  or  reu*arks  tliat  were  from 
time  to  time  addressed  to  iier. 

Chata  soon  perceived  that  as  tlie  day  wore  on,  and  she 
began  to  exliibit  signs  of  fatigue  from  the  hurried  mareii 
and  tlio  heat,  her  presence  caused  far  more  anxiet}'  than 
triumph  to  her  captor.  "The  old  folly!"  he  muttered 
from  time  to  time,  —  "to  act  without  counting  the  cost. 
I  doubt  wiictlier  there  is  a  decent  woman  among  this 
drove  of  camp-followers.  If  I  had  but  thought  to  bring 
one  from  the  hacienda !  In  fact,  it  was  a  fool's  act  to  bring 
the  child  at  all,  with  such  work  before  me  as  I  have ! " 

Chata  caught  thest  broken  sentences  with  a  wild  hope 
that  he  might  decree  her  return  to  Tres  Ilermanos.  Wil- 
lingly would  she  have  risked  going  alone  on  foot  if  neces- 
sary. But  the  sun  set,  the  shades  of  evening  closed  in, 
and  the  hurried  march  was  still  pursued,  until,  when  she 
was  ready  to  faint  with  fatigue,  the  General  ordered  a 
halt,  and  lifting  her  from  the  saddle,  placed  her  upon  a 
pile  of  blankets ;  while  a  half-dozen  men  set  to  work 
with  practised  hands  to  build  a  little  hut  or  tent  of  mos- 
quite  and  manzanita  boughs  to  shelter  her  from  the 
air. 

As  the  weary  girl  sat  near  the  tent  fire,  endeavoring  to 
eat  the  food  of  which  she  stood  in  much  need,  but  for  wliich 
she  could  not  force  an  appetite,  she  found  herself  the  centre 
of  a  wild  horde  of  perhaps  nearly  five  hundred  persons,  of 
whom  a  fifth  were  women  and  children,  who  were  bus}'  at 
the  fires  preparing  the  evening  meal  while  the  men  were 
staking  horses,  or  patrolling  the  circle  of  the  camp,  keep- 
ing within  bounds  tiie  hard-driven  and  panting  cattle  and 
sheep,  whose  distressing  lowing  and  bleating  at  intervals 
lilled  the  air.  Apparently  there  was  an  entire  lack  of  disci- 
pline, the  unreasoning  enthusiasm  of  the  moment  and  the 
personal  magnetism  of  the  renowned  leader  serving  to 
hold  the  unruly  elements  subservient  to  the  necessities 
of  the  occasion,  and  obedient  to  his  slightest  mandate. 
The  majority  of  the  troops  were  of  the  most  wild  and 
even  savage  appearance  ;  for,  as  their  leader  had  said,  thev 
were  the  rift-raff,  the  scourings  of  the  mountain  villa- 
ges and  remote  farms.     Chata  was  not  unaccustomed  to 


night 


382 


C//ATA   AND  CniNITA. 


fi*:'ifi|    ■    ■)      iiS 


the  flight  of  such  individimls,  hut  in  maas  tho  impression 
they  niiulo  upon  her  was  of  conoentriitcd  ovll.  The  tnicu 
of  gi'iitler  fci'liiig  that  each  face  or  person  might  havt^ 
revealed  on  scrutin}'  was  lost  in  tho  prevailing  feroeity  of 
expression  and  aecoutrement.  The  clash  of  arms,  the 
jingle  of  spurs,  the  hoarse  voices  made  lier  sliiidder  no  less 
than  tlie  sullen  faces,  the  gleaming  eyes,  and  the  sinewy 
and  powerful  frames. 

Strangely  enough,  as  her  cj'os  followed  Ramirez,  a  sense 
of  his  complete  harmony  with  his  surroundings  seemed  in 
the  girl's  mind  to  condone  the  wild  deeds  of  which  he  had 
figured  as  the  hero.  She  realized  for  the  first  time  tho 
fascination  that  uidimited  power  over  such  elements  must 
exercise  over  a  mind  given  to  daring,  and  uncontrolled 
by  any  moral  principle.  She  thought  of  Chinita,  and  how 
her  adventurous  spirit  would  have  exulted  in  such  an 
adventure  as  this.  As  she  gazed  into  the  fire  tho  very 
face  of  that  fearless,  enigmatic  young  nature  seemed  to 
rise  before  her,  beautiful,  passionate,  yet  with  that  capac- 
ity of  endurance,  which  in  a  man  might  become  cruelty, 
that  capricious  changeableness,  which  one  moment  dis- 
solved in  tears,  and  the  next  shone  in  a  smile.  So  real 
was  the  vision  that  Chata  started,  and  found  herself  gazing 
affrightedly  into  the  face  of  Kamirez,  who  was  regarding 
her  with  the  exi)ression  of  mingled  affection,  triumph,  and 
vexation  which  had  not  left  his  countenance  since  he  hatl 
set  her  upon  Dona  Rita's  favorite  horse  at  the  door  of  the 
hacienda. 

"  I  have  a  notable  project  in  my  mind  for  you,"  he 
said  abruptly.  "  You  know  that  1  am  the  Governor  of 
Guanapila." 

"  Yes,"  she  said  timidly ;  "  but  I  thought —  "  she  hesi- 
tated, fearing  to  offend. 

"  Ah,  you  thought  I  was  beaten  and  barred  out.  They 
will  find  I  am  neither  one  nor  the  other.  The  gate  is  shut 
but  not  bolted,  and  it  will  be  hard  if  I  find  not  a  way 
to  creep  in.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  keep  you  with  mo 
on  the  march.     You  must  be  with  some  woman." 

"Oh,  I  would  rather  be  with  you.  Indeed  I  will  give 
no  trouble !  I  will  be  brave ! "  she  exclaimed,  instinc- 
tively shrinking  from  the 
wom(m  as  she  saw  around  her 


thought  of  contact  with  such 


tho  imprcsaion 
ivil.  TIk!  trace 
on  luij^lit  htivo 
iling  fcroeity  of 
li  of  arms,  tlu! 
slnuUlor  no  less 
and  the  sinewy 

[lainirez,  a  senso 
dings  seemed  in 
of  which  lie  had 
»e  first  time  tlio 
■h  elements  must 
vnd  uncontrolled 
:^hinita,  and  how 
ilted  in  such  an 
the  fire  tho  very 
laturc  seemed  to 
with  that  capac- 
bccome  cruelty, 
one  moment  dis- 
a  smile.     So  real 
,nd  herself  gazing 
ho  was  regarding 
ion,  triumph,  and 
ance  since  he  had 
it  the  door  of  the 

ind  for  you,"  he 
the  Governor  of 

jglit — "  she  hesi- 

jarred  out.  They 
The  gate  is  shut 
.  find  not  a  way 
keep  you  with  me 
woman." 

Indeed  I  will  give 
sxclaimed,  instinc- 
contact  with  such 


C//ATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


383 


He  Rinilod  with  gratification,  his  egotistic  nature  nat- 
tered by  the  tiiought  that  he  was  gaining  her  confidence ; 
hut  his  face  darkened  as  she  added  with  hesitation,  *^  I 
had  hoped  —  1  thought  perhaps  you  wtae  taking  me  to  my 
mother." 

"It  is  not  of  your  motiier  I  was  thinking,"  he  said 
ambiguously,  "  when  I  wpoke  of  Guanapila,  but  of  my 
niece  Carmen  do  Velasquez.  She  knows  that  the  (Jen- 
cral  Ramirez  once  sent  an  escort  with  her  mother  to  Tres 
Ilermanos,  and  levied  upon  her  husband  for  a  loan  of  ten 
thousand  dollars  when  he  might  have  had  five  times  as 
much,  —  for  tho  old  fellow  she  has  married  is  rich,  and 
does  honor  to  the  financial  acumen  of  the  fair  Carmen, 
and  we  will  see  whether  she  has  a  just  appreciation  of  tho 
favors  I  am  supposed  to  have  rendered  her.  There,  go 
to  your  tent  and  sleep  in  peace ;  in  three  days  you  shall 
be  safe  within  the  house  of  Velasquez  in  Guanapila." 

It  cannot  bo  said  that  Chata  slept  in  peace ;  yet  the 
prospect  was  reassuring,  and  enabled  her  to  bear  with 
resignation  the  fatigues  and  excitements  of  the  following 
days,  and  the  loneliness  and  terrors  of  the  nights.  Tho 
(leneral  slept  before  the  opening  of  her  tent.  Upon  tho 
fourth  night  he  awoke  her,  and  handed  her  a  torn  and 
shabby  reboso  and  a  skirt  of  coarse  red  cloth,  with  in- 
structions to  put  them  on.  She  did  so  with  some  repug- 
nance, though  the  clothing  she  left  was  not  better ;  and  at 
a  call  stepped  out  into  the  starlight.  The  young  Cap- 
tain Alva  preceded  her  in  silence  outside  the  limits  of  the 
camp,  where  two  horses  were  in  waiting,  held  by  a  man 
whom  at  the  first  startled  glance  she  failed  to  recognize. 
It  would  have  horrified  her  beyond  control  had  she  known 
that  in  his  size  and  air  and  dress  he  was  the  image  of  the 
ranchero  who  had  entered  Tres  Ilermanos  on  the  night  of 
the  murder,  years  before.  She  uttered  a  cry  of  relief  as 
Kamiroz  greeted  her. 

"  Ah,  is  it  not  a  perfect  disguise?  "  he  said.  '*  Why,  I 
might  go  into  El  Toro  itself  with  impunity  !  Mount,  child, 
and  keep  close  at  my  side  !  " 

In  a  minute  or  less,  with  the  assistance  of  Alva,  Chata 
was  ready  for  the  start,  —  her  courage  rising  with  the  sense 
of  mystery  and  daring  under  which  Ramirez  seemed  to 
glow  and  expand.     lie  i)aused  to  give  his  last  commands 


tiif 


384 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


to  Alva,  of  which  she  heard  only  the  concluding  words : 
*'  Re3'es  should  be  here  by  daylirrht.  Keep  him  at  all 
hazards,  for  he  must  sound  Ruiz  before  another  day 
passes.  Caramba!  I  cannot  believe  that  fellow  has 
failed  me ;  but  whether  or  no,  the  end  will  be  the  same, 
—  except  that  I  swear  if  Ruiz  prove  false,  were  he  twice 
m}'  godson  he  shall  not  escape  my  vengeance." 

The  General  pulled  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  waved  his 
hand,  struck  the  spurs  into  his  horse,  and  led  the  way  at 
a  swift  canter.  Chata  until  within  the  last  few  days  had 
never  ridden  on  horseback ;  but  she  was  singularly  free 
from  fear  or  awkwardness,  and  with  ease,  though  in 
silence,  kept  at  his  side. 

"  Chata,"  Ramirez  once  said  abruptly,  turning  his  dark 
and  piercing  eyes  upon  her,  "I  am  risking  much  for  your 
sake.  Remember  that  you  are  m}"  daughter.  Be  faithful 
to  me,  obe}'  my  bidding,  and  I  will  cherish  j-ou  as  the 
apple  of  my  eye.  It  may  depend  upon  you  whether  the 
troops  of  Dona  Isabel  follow  my  lead  or  that  of  Gonzales. 
Yon  will  know  my  meaning  later;  but  1  swear  to  you, 
as  I  have  done  by  Ruiz,  my  vengeance  shall  rest  upon 
whomsoever  balks  me, — yes,  if  it  is  even  you,  the  new- 
found daughter  whom  I  love." 

Chata  trembled.  Though  his  words  were  an  enigma, 
they  indicated  that  her  role  was  not  to  be  an  utterl}'  passive 
one.  Her  companion  awaited  no  answer,  and  Chata  did 
not  attempt  to  make  one.  They  rode  on  at  ever  increasing 
speed  as  the  night  advanced.  Just  at  daybreak  they 
reached  a  hut,  which  was  placed  at  the  mouth  of  a  canon. 
There  the}'^  left  their  horses,  and  an  old  woman  appeared 
with  a  crate  of  turkeys  in  each  hand,  one  of  which  she 
gave  to  the  disguised  chieftain,  the  other  to  the  wondering 
Cluita. 

An  hour  later  they  were  in  the  streets  of  Guanapila, 
and  before  they  had  broken  their  fast  Chata  sat  overcome 
with  fatigue  and  disma}'  upon  the  stone  stairs  tliat  led  to 
the  corridor  ot  c-  palatial  residence.  Tiie  ranchcro,  as  the 
servants  supposed  him,  had  gone  to  speak  with  the  lady 
'^f  the  mansion.  It  was  a  long  time  before  he  re-appeared  ; 
and  when  he  did,  a  beautiful  woman  preceded  him.  She 
was  very  pale,  and  there  was  in  hor  c^'cs  an  incredulous 
and  startled  expression,  which  changed  to  pity  as  her 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


385 


eluding  words : 
eep  him  at  all 
e  anotlier  day 
hat  fellow  has 
11  be  the  same, 
I,  were  he  twice 

ICC." 

yes,  waved  his 
[  led  the  way  at 
st  few  days  had 
singularly  free 
lase,   though  in 

turning  his  dark 
g  much  for  your 
iter.  Be  faithful 
jrish  you  as  the 
you  whether  the 
hat  of  Gonzales. 
1  swear  to  you, 
!  shall  rest  upon 
;u  you,  the  new- 

vere  an  enigma, 
m  utterly  passive 
r,  and  Chata  did 
Lt  ever  increasing 
t  daybreak  they 
louth  of  a  canon, 
woman  appeared 
me  of  which  slie 
to  the  wondering 

ts  of  Guanapila, 
ata  sat  overcome 
stairs  that  led  to 
ranchcro,  as  the 
ak  witli  tlie  lady 
3  he  re-appcared ; 
ceded  him.  She 
an  incredulous 
to  pity  as  her 


s 
I 


gaze  fell  upon  Cbata,  —  who,  looking  up,  thought  of  the 
pale  and  lovely  face  she  had  seen  but  once,  and  knew  she 
must  be  in  the  presence  of  Carmen,  the  sister  of  the  nun 
of  El  Toro. 

Ramirez  whispered  a  word  in  the  ear  of  the  bewildered 
girl,  it  might  be  of  warning  or  of  farewell ;  but  her  senses 
failed  her,  —  she  neither  saw  nor  heard  more. 

''  Go,  go !  "  cried  the  mistress  of  the  house.  *'  For 
God's  sake  go,  before  there  is  anj'  one  to  wonder. 
Whether  vour  tale  be  true  or  false,  she  has  the  face  of  a 
Garcia,  and  a  loveliness  and  sweetness  of  her  own.  I  will 
guard  her  as  though  she  were  my  child.  Go,  go !  and  the 
saints  grant  j'ou  a  safe  passage.  I  will  not  betray  your 
confidence.  Ah,  she  has  fainted !  I  will  manage  that ;  it 
shrll  be  my  pretext  for  charity." 

jJamirez  kissed  the  hand  of  the  unconscious  Chata,  and 
turned  away.  For  once  he  had  executed  an  act  of  ex- 
treme self-denial,  yet  amid  it  all  his  crafty  mind  foresaw 
how  he  might  use  it  to  his  advantage. 

The  exit  from  the  city  was  readily  effected,  but  Ramirez 
did  not  proceed  man}'  miles  unrecognized  after  mounting 
his  horse  at  the  hut  where  he  had  left  it.  The  man  who 
spoke  his  name  unhesitatingly,  though  in  a  cautious  voice, 
was  Reyes.  He  gave  the  General  unwelcome  tidings. 
Gonzales  had  joined  forces  with  those  of  Tres  Hermanos. 
He  had  risked  the  attack  and  occupation  of  El  Toro,  and 
it  was  conjectured  would  attempt  the  march  to  the  Capital 
itself,  round  which  the  audacious  Juarez  was  from  his 
stronghold  in  Vera  Cruz  directing  the  concentration  of 
the  Liberal  forces. 

Ramirc?  ground  his  teeth  in  rage.     "  I  have  been  de 
layed  and  hampered  by  that  girl,"  he  cried.     "Could  i. 
but  have  gone  straight  to  Ruiz,  he  would  not  have  dared 
defy  me.     As  it  is  —  " 

"As  it  is,"  interrupted  Reyes,  "  all  is  not  j'et  lost.  I 
have  still  to  see  Ruiz,  —  he  is  not  my  son  if  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  convince  him  upon  which  hot  plate  the  cake  is  best 
toasted." 

The  conference  of  the  two  men  lasted  but  a  few  mo- 
ments. They  had  been  so  accustomed  in  their  long  in- 
tercourse to  treat  of  subjects  of  which  one  was  as  well 
informed  as  the  other,  and  upon  the  course  to  be  taken 

25 


386 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


at  the  present  time  they  were  so  well  agreed,  that  they 
parted  with  no  attempt  at  explanation,  but  simply  after  a 
few  words  of  instruction  had  been  given  by  liamircz  to 
the  other. 

"  Tell  him,"  the  chief  said  finally,  "  I  am  ready  to  fulfil 
my  word ;  and  if  Ruiz  be  anxious  to  see  her,  let  him  risk 
as  much  for  love  as  I  have  done.  She  is  at  the  house  of 
Dona  Carmen  Velasquez  in  Guanapiia;  and  tell  him  as 
surely  as  he  is  my  godson  and  your  son  he  shall  be  shot 
as  a  traitor  if  he  fails  me  in  this  affair.  Good-by  for  a 
time  ;  good  news  or  bad  news,  my  blood  is  up  for  a  des- 
perate venture  now.  It  canrot  be  that  after  all  these 
years  luck  is  turning  against  me  at  last." 

"  It  did  that  years  ago  when  you  stabbed  the  Ameri- 
can," thought  Reyes  as  they  parted ;  "it  was  that  that 
weighted  the  scale.  That  accursed  foreigner  who  is  here  to 
avenge  him  has  upset  all  our  plans  for  misleading  Gonza- 
les. With  both  together  Ramirez  has  fearful  odds  against 
him,  which  even  with  the  help  of  Ruiz  and  his  men  he 
may  find  it  hard  to  combat.  But  how  in  heaven's  name 
has  the  General  his  daughter  with  him  ?  Caramba  I  I 
have  often  wondered  how  he  would  relish  that  drunken 
freak  of  mine !  Faith,  I  did  not  care  to  try  his  temper 
to-night  by  many  questions.  Well,  who  would  have 
thought  he  would  have  kept  in  the  same  mind  for  so 
many  years !  To  think  of  his  striving  to  give  her  the 
family  training  at  this  late  date !  All,  ah,  ah !  it  is  more 
likely  to  mar  than  to  make  her.  If  Fernando  is  of  my 
mind  ho  will  wait  in  such  a  matter  for  no  pruning  and 
training,  but  pluck  the  fiowcr  while  it  is  within  his  reach, 
thorns  and  all." 

With  which  poetic  simile,  Tio  Reyes  rode  on  well 
pleased  on  his  errand  to  the  young  Ruiz,  while  Ramirez, 
proceeding  rapidly  in  the  opposite  direction,  regained 
within  the  hour  his  enthusiastic  but  disorderly  horde. 


Treed,  that  they 


XL. 


Vain  would  be  the  attempt  to  describe  the  consternation 
of  Doiia  Isabel  when  she  awoke  at  early  dawn,  and  felt 
about  her  that  peculiar  stillness  —  a  stillness  that  seems 
absolutely  tangible  —  which  indicates  the  abstraction  of 
the  element  of  humanity  from  the  associations  about 
us,  and  is  especially  impressive  when  that  loss  is  utterly 
unexpected. 

It  was  not  yet  da3'light,  and  it  was  by  this  peculiar  still- 
ness, and  not  by  sight,  that  Dona  Isabel  learned  with  a 
deadl}'^  feeling  of  dismay  at  her  heart,  that  she  was  alone. 
For  a  moment  she  lay  silent,  then  raising  herself  on  her 
elbow  sought  to  peer  through  the  gloom,  while  with  falter- 
ing voice  she  uttered  the  name  *'  Chinita." 

There  was  no  answer.  She  would  have  been  inexpres- 
sibly surprised  had  there  been  ;  and  yet  refusing  to  be 
convinced,  she  arose  from  her  bed  and  made  her  waj'  to 
that  of  Chinita.  Had  the  girl  been  there,  in  the  infinite 
relief  and  excitement  of  the  moment  the  lad^'  must  have 
clasped  her  in  her  arms  with  kisses  and  tears  ;  as  it  was, 
after  passing  her  hands  wildl}'  over  the  empty  couch,  she 
sank  upon  it  with  a  deep  and  bitter  moan,  feeling  anew, 
and  with  the  intensified  agony  of  remembrance,  the  shock 
with  which  she  had  heard  the  cry  of  Herlinda,  —  "My 
husband !  M3'  husband !  "  What  but  a  like  betrayal 
could  in  that  place  and  time  have  drawn  a  young  girl  from 
her  chamber?    Alas!  alas! 

The  thoughts  of  Doiia  Isabel  flew  to  Ruiz  ;  a  thousand 
tntlos,  unheeded  before,  crowded  her  remembrance  as  con- 
firmation of  some  secret  understandmg  between  him  and 
Chinita.  If  she  had  noticed  them  at  all  it  was  to  think 
with  a  smile  that  they  had  reference  to  Rosario.  How  had 
she  been  so  blind !  She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  hastily 
dressed  herself  with  some  undeiinid  Intention  of  seeking 
him  in  his  quarters,  and  demanding  :in  explanation  of  him 


'!     M 


ill  il 


•m 


Will  I 

Bill.  '       If 


&,i 


388 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


if  he  were  to  be  found,  or  of  confirming  her  worst  fears  if 
lie  had  fled.  All  her  old  distrust  of  him,  which  he  had 
so  skilful!}'  lulled,  returned  with  overwhelming  force,  and 
in  her  unfounded  suspicion  she  included  the  more  just  one 
of  treason  to  her  purposes  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  to 
Gonzales,  and  with  irresistible  certaint}'  became  convinced 
that  the  delays  and  detours  which  Ruiz  had  made  had  been 
expedients  of  traitorous  policy.  In  the  few  moments 
needed  for  the  completion  of  her  toilet,  a  terrible  fear  took 
possession  of  her.  For  the  first  time  that  night  she  had 
been  separated  from  the  main  body  of  the  troops,  —  what 
if  she  were  abandoned!  Nothing  seemed  more  likely. 
Only  the  great  self-possession  that  she  habitually  practised 
prevented  her  from  rushing  out  —  yes,  even  into  the  streets 
of  the  village  —  to  satisfy  herself  that  the  rude  encamp- 
ment remained  unbroken. 

Yet  with  all  this  raging  excitement  of  grief  and  doubt 
within  her,  she  presently  stepped  out  upon  the  con-idor  with 
that  stately  calmness  which  she  ever  wore  before  the  world, 
were  it  represented  by  but  the  meanest  peasant.  Day 
had  scarcely  broken,  yet  there  was  a  sound  of  movement 
unusual  in  so  small  a  place.  To  the  excited  mind  of  Dona 
Isabel  it  appeared  that  like  herself  the  people  all  must  be 
searching  wildly  for  the  girl  wiio  had  so  strangely  escaped 
her.  She  went  to  the  inn  door  and  looked  out.  Tlic 
camp-women  were  wandering  through  the  streets  already', 
chaffering  and  bargaining  with  the  vendors  of  milk  and 
bread  and  vegetables.  In  the  distance  she  saw  the  soldiers 
preparing  for  the  march.  Three  or  four  oflficers  were 
lounging  down  the  narrow  street.  To  her  infinite  surprise 
and  relief  she  saw  among  them  Ruiz.  He  hastened  his 
steps  and  joined  her  with  an  air  of  consternation,  which 
even  in  her  excitement  she  noticed  had  in  it  a  subdued 
suggestion  of  apprehension  as  of  one  detected  in  some 
doubtful  act. 

In  a  few  words  Dofia  Isabel  apprised  him  of  the  disap- 
pearance of  Chinita.  It  was  impossible  that  it  could  be 
concealed  ;  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  search  should 
be  made.  Ruiz  listened  with  an  emotion  greater  even 
than  hers.  "Good  heavens,  Seiiora!"  he  cried,  "we 
are  undone.  Ramirez  must  be  at  hand.  In  some  way 
she  has  learned  his  whereabouts ;  she  has  fle'  to  him !  " 


CffATA   AND  CHINITA. 


389 


,  him  of  the  disap- 
G  that  it  could  be 
that  search  should 
Dtion  greater  even 
he  cried,  "we 
nd.  In  some  way 
las  flc'  to  him !  " 


Dona  Isabel  tliought  Ruiz  had  suddenly  gone  mad. 
"Fled  to  Ramirez!"  she  cried.  "Impossible!  What 
can  she  know  of  the  man?  What  object  can  she  have 
in  seeking  him?" 

Instinctively  the  lady  had  led  the  way  back  to  the  room 
she  had  left.  Ruiz  followed  her,  in  the  utter  demoralization 
of  his  mind  at  the  unexpected  tidings,  pouring  out  in- 
coherent explanations  of  the  designs  that  Chinita  liad 
cherished,  and  unconsciously  revealing  much  of  the  du- 
plicity of  the  part  he  had  himself  acted.  With  an  acuto- 
ness  of  mind  perhaps  intensified  by  the  keen  emotion  with 
which  she  listened  to  the  unexpected  accusations  against 
the  young  girl,  Doiia  Isabel  conjectured  at  once  that  the 
speaker  had  plaj'ed  a  double  part;  and  it  was  a  not 
improbable  solution  of  the  mystery  of  Chinita's  disap- 
pearance, that  in  discovering  this  the  young  girl  had  re- 
solved to  precipitate  a  crisis  in  the  fate  of  the  man  who 
exercised  so  unaccountable  a  fascination  over  her. 

Yet  with  whom  had  she  fled?  Had  Ramirez  himself 
stolen  into  the  inn  and  borne  her  away  ?  The  face  of  Ruiz 
blanched  at  this  suggestion.  Had  the  girl  learned  what 
was  indeed  a  fact,  that  upon  that  very  day  the  troops  of 
DoHa  Isabel  Garcia  were  by  their  officers  to  protest  against 
a  further  attempt  to  reach  Gonzales,  and  declaring  Ruiz 
their  chosen  and  permanent  leader  were  at  once  to  take 
up  the  march  to  join  the  forces  of  General  Ortega,  a  newly 
arisen  and  popular  Liberal  chieftain  who  was  a  personal 
and  implacable  enemy  of  Ramirez,  — thus  leaving  El  Tore 
to  its  fate?  Had  Chinita  indeed  gone  with  such  news 
to  Ramirez?  Ruiz  felt  that  his  doom  was  sealed,  for 
he  rightly  conjectured  that  the  excitement  of  Chinita's 
disappearance  had  already  dampened  the  ardor  in  his 
behalf  which  he  had  found  it  a  slow  and  almost  impos 
sible  task  to  awaken  among  the  troops.  Indeed,  that 
it  had  been  roused  at  all  was  owing  to  the  discontent 
which  had  arisen  through  the  clcverl}'  concealed  tactics 
he  had  used  in  contriving  so  long  and  monotonous  a 
march  to  the  aid  of  a  man  but  little  known  or  admired, 
and  from  the  general  belief  in  tlie  love  of  the  beautiful 
protegee  of  Dona  Isabel  for  the  young  aspirant  for  fame. 
In  her  hand  the  favor  of  Dona  Isabel  was  supposed  to  lie. 
Eager  for  action,  eager  for  booty,  brought  to  a  point  where 


^M^. 


/i 


1<* 


390 


CIIATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


they  were  almost  within  sound  of  the  oiigles  of  General 
Ortega,  who  was  making  his  hurried  and  triumphant  march 
to  the  capital,  it  had  been  decided  that  upon  that  very 
morning  a  pronunciamento  should  be  made,  which,  while 
involving  no  change  of  politics,  should  compel  the  con- 
sent of  Dofia  Isabel  to  the  apparently  sjjontaiieous  out- 
burst of  patriotism  upon  tiie  part  of  lier  troops,  and 
confirm  Ruiz  in  the  command  that  she  had  temporarily 
confided  to  him. 

Ruiz  liad  so  cunningly  planned  every  detail  that  he 
doubted  not  that  not  only  Dona  Isabel,  but  Chinita  as 
well,  would  be  convinced  of  liis  entire  ignorance  of  the 
coiqy^  and  that  the  girl's  ambition,  and  perhaps  a  some- 
what malicious  satisfaction  in  the  reversal  of  the  plans  of 
Dona  Isabel,  would  lei"  1  her  to  an  acceptance  of  the  appa- 
rently unavoidable  forfeiture  of  her  own  desires. 

To  this  end  the  ambitious  young  officer  had  been 
patiently  working  since  the  day  he  had  found  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  troops  of  Tres  Hermanos.  He  had  been 
amazed  at  his  own  success.  Everything  had  seemed  to 
contribute  to  it.  Not  even  the  triumph  of  seeing  himself 
actually  attracting  the  good-will,  if  not  the  love,  of  Chinita 
had  been  denied  him  ;  and  now  at  the  moment  least  ex- 
pected, at  the  most  critical  juncture,  she  had  failed  him. 
It  was  impossible  for  him  to  assume  his  usual  self-sufficient 
air  as  he  re-iasued  from  the  apartment  of  Dofia  Isabel,  — 
an  air  that  imposed  on  the  majority  of  observers  as  that  of 
a  man  conscious  of  power,  :'ather  than  as  c  ^".isguise  of  in- 
competency. His  crest-fallca  bearing  as  he  gave  the  neces- 
sary orders  for  scouts  to  be  sent  out  in  search  of  those 
who  in  the  night  must  have  left  tl;'?  ill-guarded  town  was 
evident  to  the  most  careless  eye,  a: id  did  much  to  increase 
the  feeling  of  distrust  and  coldness  that  was  alreadv 
beginning  to  supplant  the  ill-considered  ardor  of  a  few 
hours  before. 

The  scouts  had  been  despatched ;  and  the  main  body 
of  the  trooi)s  waited  for  marching  orders,  which  were  long 
delayed.  Ruiz,  closeted  with  the  men  who  had  been  most 
amenable  to  his  reasoning,  urged  openl}'  the  arguments 
that  he  had  but  covertly  suggested  before.  That  ex- 
hausted apathy  which  following  an  exploded  project  is 
far  more  hopeless  than  that  which,   merely  unig^ited, 


CHAT  A   AND  CHINITA. 


391 


iiglcs  of  General 
riurnpiiant  march 
b  upon  that  very 
ide,  wyvicL,  while 

compel  the  con- 
spontaneous  out- 

hcr  troops,  and 
!  had  tempoi*a^'"y 

rv  detail  that  he 
)!",  but  Chiuita  as 
ignorance  of  the 
[  perhaps  a  some- 
sal  of  the  plans  ot 
stance  of  the  appa- 

vn  desires. 

officer  had  been 
d  found  himself  at 
los.     He  had  been 
ing  had  seemed  to 
.h  of  seeing  lumsclf 
the  love,  of  Chunta 
e  moment  least  ex- 
jhe  had  failed  him. 
usual  self-sufficient 
of  Dona  Isabel,  — - 
observers  as  that  of 
lasc^^asguiseofm- 
ashega\etheneces- 
t  in  search  of  those 
U-cTuarded  town  was 
did  much  to  increase 
s  that  was   already 
ered  ardor  of  a  few 

and  the  main  body 
lers,  which  were  long 
ti  who  had  been  most 
ncnly  the  arguments 
before.     That  ex- 
exploded  project  19 
.,  merely  uniguitcd, 


11 


\ 


precedes  its  agitation,  resisted  all  his  efforts  at  revival. 
The  officers,  like  the  soldiers,  listlessly  waited  to  hear 
what  would  happen  next,  absolutely  indifferent  to  Ruiz, 
and  concerned  for  the  moment  in  a  mere  matter  of  gossip, 
—  the  escapade  of  a  young  girl. 

Toward  noon  some  of  the  messengers  returned.  Most 
of  them  had  nothing  to  report,  but  the  vaquero  Gabriel, 
the  husband  of  Juana,  as  soon  as  he  could  escape  the 
questioning  of  Ruiz,  disappeared.  An  hour  later  he 
entered  the  apartment  of  Dona  Isabel. 

"What  news,  Gabriel,  what  news?"  the  lady  cried 
excitedly.  "Did  you  come  upon  any  trace  of — of  the 
child  ;  of  those  who  have  stolen  her  away  ?  " 

The  vaquero  shook  his  head,  and  Dona  Isabel  groaned. 
Those  few  hours  had  wrought  a  terrible  change  in  her 
appearance.  She  was  not  young  and  able  to  meet  shocks 
of  disaster  as  she  had  been  when  they  had  shaken  her 
in  by -gone  years. 

"  I  found  no  trace  of  them,  my  Senora,"  said  the  man, 
slowl}'.  "  Perhaps  my  e3'os  are  not  as  keen  as  they  were, 
and  they  say  when  one  thinks  much  one  sees  little.  Since 
I  am  married  I  find  one  must  think.  A  woman  gives  one 
abundance  for  thought.  She  grinds  care  for  a  man  more 
surelv  than  corn  for  his  bread." 

Dona  Isabel  looked  up  at  him  quickly.  She  knew  that 
this  oracular  sentence  had  some  bearing  on  the  subject 
that  absorbed  her  thoughts.  "  Speak,"  she  said.  "  What 
has  your  wife  to  do  with  this?  " 

"  She  was  the  playmate  of  the  young  Senorita,"  ho 
suggested. 

"  True,  but  what  of  that?" 

"  She  would  be  likely  to  be  in  her  confidence,  —  at  least 
where  there  was  no  other  to  trust." 

Doiia  Isabel  smarted,  looking  at  him  with  fixed  attention. 

"  The  thought  came  to  me  as  I  rode  out  of  the  town, 
—  it  came  back  to  me  again  and  again.  After  hours  of 
vain  search  I  suffered  myself  to  be  convinced.  I  came 
back  and  taxed  Juana  witli  knowing  with  whom,  and  when 
and  whore,  her  friend  had  gone." 

"Well?"  ejaculated  Dona  Isabel,  in  extreme  agita- 
tion. 

"  She  denied  it.    By  all  the  saints  she  denied  it ;  but  I 


fP! 


(•«ktBAllU&tt3kN.Kt 


or. 


'fd'2 


CJ/ATA   AND  CUINITA. 


had  a  saint  she  had  forgotten  to  commend  herself  to." 
He  smiled  significantly. 

Dona  Isabel  understood  the  arguments  used  by  ran- 
cheros  to  refractory  wives  too  well  to  doubt  what  his  grim 
jest  meant.  At  another  time  she  would  have  indignantly 
dismissed  from  her  presence  the  man  who  admitted  laying 
a  hand  in  castigation  upon  his  wife ;  now  she  merely  by 
an  imperative  gesture  urged  him  to  finish  v^hat  he  had  to 
communicate. 

"  It  was  as  I  thought,"  he  said  coolly.  *'  Two  men 
talked  with  her  last  night.  The  one  was  Juana's  brother, 
Pepe ;  the  other  was  the  Senor  Americano  your  grace 
knows  of." 

Dona  Isabel  sank  back  in  her  chair  as  if  struck  by  a 
sharp  weapon.  "  The  American  !  the  American !  "  she 
repeated  again  and  again.  She  felt  as  though  a  hand  had 
been  thrust  from  the  grave  to  torture  her.  The  supersti 
tious  dread  which  had  been  planted  in  her  breast  by  the 
first  glimpse  of  ihe  face  of  Ashley  Ward,  and  which  had 
perhaps  led  her  irresistibly  to  a  course  that  the  resolution 
of  years  would  under  ordinary  circumstances  have  rendered 
impossible  to  a  nature  as  tenacious  as  was  her  own,  became 
a  horrible  certainty.  Evil  fate  in  the  guise  of  the  Ameri- 
can appeared  to  pursue  her.  Whatever  che  purpose  with 
which  he  had  lured  Chinita  from  her  side,  it  could  but  be 
productive  of  woe  for  her.  Would  the  tale  of  her  daugh- 
ter's shame  and  her  own  apparent  heartlessness  be  told 
throughout  the  land?  Had  this  pale  and  seemingly  spirit- 
less young  man  resolved  on  such  a  vengeance  of  his 
cousin's  fancied  wrongs  ?  Or  —  worse  still  —  was  this  but 
a  repetition  of  the  old,  old  tale  of  passion  and  folly? 
Dona  Isabel  covered  her  face  with  her  hand  and  groaned 
again. 

Gabriel  had  called  his  ,/ife  to  the  room,  and  she  came 
with  eyes  red  with  weeping,  and  told  the  tale  that  seemed 
to  her  best.  Fearful  of  bringing  the  vengeance  of  the 
SeSora  upon  Pepe,  should  she  avow  that  t«  had  left  the 
inn  alone  with  Chinita,  she  declared  he  had  but  accom- 
panied the  American,  whom  she  boldly  affirmed  had  set 
out  for  the  coast,  with  the  young  girl,  intending  to  set  sail 
for  the  wild  country  whence  he  had  come. 

Dona  Isabel  and  Gabriel  both  knew  too  well  the  inven- 


•nd  herself  to." 

s  used  by  ran- 
»t  what  his  grim 
lave  indignantly 
admitted  laying 
T  she  merely  by 
v^hat  he  had  to 

ly.  "Two  men 
Juana's  brother, 
ano  your  grace 

IS  if  struck  by  a 
American ! "  she 
ough  a  hand  had 
r.    The  supersti 
ler  breast  by  the 
d,  and  which  had 
lat  xhe  resolution 
ces  have  rendered 
,  her  own,  became 
lise  of  the  Ameri- 
che  purpose  with 
le,  it  could  but  be 
»le  of  her  daugh- 
rtlessness  be  told 
[  seemingly  spirit- 
vengeance  of  his 
X\\  —  was  this  but 
ission  and  folly? 
land  and  groaned 

om,  and  she  came 
tale  that  seemed 
vengeance  of  the 
at  fc«  had  left  the 
e  had  but  accora- 
f  affirmed  had  set 
tending  to  set  sail 
•me. 
00  well  the  Inven- 


CHATA  ANDCIIINITA. 


3!)3 


tivo  genius  of  their  countrywomen  literally  to  believe  all 
she  said ;  yet  as  hour  after  hour  passed  by  and  no  news 
of  the  fugitives  was  heard,  and  no  trace  of  them  in  spite 
of  the  most  untiring  search  was  found,  they  were  at  length 
led  to  conclude  —  the  one  with  despair  —  that  Juana's 
words  were  true,  and  that  the  brief  connection  of  the 
beautifid  fostc  child  of  Pedro  Gomez  with  the  lady  of 
Tres  Hermanoti  wa3  ended  forever. 


XLI. 


Never  perhaps  did  so  marked  a  change  occur  in  the  dis- 
cipline and  carriage  of  any  bod}'  of  trooi)s,  from  a  cause 
apparently  so  slight,  as  that  which  followed  the  llight  of 
Chinita.  Of  the  visit  of  the  American  nothing  was  pub- 
licly known,  but  the  wildest  rumors  of  her  probable  action 
ran  like  wildfire  through  the  ranks,  the  name  of  Ramirez 
coupled  with  her  own  being  on  every  tongue.  So  potent 
was  the  fame  of  the  guerilla  chieftain  and  the  fascination 
of  Chinita,  that  a  word  from  her  at  that  excited  moment 
would  have  acted  like  fire  on  straw,  and  set  a  blaze  to  the 
smouldering  insubordination  and  disappointed  energies  of 
the  battled  and  impatient  recruits,  Avho  had  entered  upon 
the  service  from  love  of  adventure  and  booty  rather  than 
with  any  fixed  convictions  or  an  intelligent  conception  of 
the  interests  at  stake. 

Dofia  Isabel  wore  before  the  world  the  same  impassive 
face  as  ever,  but  at  night  the  demon  powers  of  remorse 
and  intolerable  anxiety  wrought  cruel  havoc  with  its 
beauty.  It  was  impossible  too  for  her  to  conceal  utterly 
the  suspicion  and  distrust  with  whi(!h  Ruiz  inspired  her ; 
and  the  influence  which  through  Chinita  mainly  he  had 
for  a  brief  period  acquired,  both  over  Dona  Isabel  and  the 
troops,  and  which  at  best  had  been  looked  upon  as  a 
privilege  he  should  yield  later  with  his  authority  to  Gon- 
zales, began  to  wane  rapidly.  Dissatisfaction  and  muti- 
nous threatenings  were  manifested  on  every  hand,  and  the 
position  of  Ruiz  but  for  the  presence  of  Dona  Isabel  would 
have  been  absolutelv  untenable  ;  and  a  crisis  was  cvidentlv 
imminent,  when  the  long  desired  leader  suddenly  ai)pearcd 
to  relieve  the  tension  of  the  situation,  and  to  awaken  a 
frenzy  of  enthusiasm  for  the  cause,  which  had  been  at  the 
point  of  abandonment. 

It  was  with  intense  relief  that  Ruiz  himself  greeted  the 
appearance  of  Gonzales,  unexi)ected  though  it  was,  and 
incomprehensible  the  means  b}'  which  he  had  obtained 


CHATA   AND   Cf/nV/TA. 


395 


information  that  had  led  him  so  completely  to  alter  his 
phms.  That  the  American  was  concerned  in  the  matter 
lluiz  did  not  doubt,  though  he  could  imagine  no  clew  to 
his  motives,  the  conviction  being  still  in  the  mind  of  the 
baflled  officer  of  Chinita's  inditl'ereuco  to  Ashley,  and  of 
her  flight  to  Ramirez. 

It  was  with  amazement  and  alarm  that  Gonzales  wit- 
nessed the  ravages  of  time  and  care  \\\)0\\  the  oiuic  beauti- 
ful and  stately  l)(ma  Isabel.  The  ver}*  excess  of  jo}'  with 
which  she  welcomed  him  seemed  weak  and  pitiful.  IIo 
had  been  detained  long  upon  the  way  from  El  Toro  by  a 
series  of  petty  annoyances,  such  as  the  bad  state  of  the 
roads  and  a  succession  of  trilling  skirmishes  with  tlio 
enemy,  resulting  in  burdening  the  march  with  the  care  of 
the  wounded ;  and  thus  the  loss  of  Chinita  had  become 
to  Dona  Isabel  by  the  time  of  his  arrival  an  assured 
fact.  With  tears  of  anguish  she  told  him  of  the  ingrati- 
tude of  the  child  she  loved,  though  she  carefully  concealed 
the  fact  that  she  supposed  her  to  be  other  than  one  of  the 
class  of  people  from  whom  she  had  taken  her ;  and  with 
this  explanation  onl}'  Gonzales  could  n  enter  full}*  into 
her  grief,  or  accept  the  fact  that  the  los  of  her  protegee 
was  indeed  the  entire  cause  of  her  anguish.  Had  she  not 
mourned  for  years  as  he  had  the  living  entombment  of 
her  daughter  Herlinda  ?  Had  not  the  sight  of  him  revived 
in  her  mind  the  keenness  of  her  woe  ? 

Dona  Isabel  was  ill  both  in  body  and  in  mind ;  worn  out 
with  anxiety  and  the  fatigues  of  travel,  the  reaction  occa- 
sioned by  the  appearance  of  Gonzales  was  doubtless  too 
great  for  her  enfeebled  powers.  To  his  extreme  embarrass- 
ment and  anxiety  he  fc  und  himself  charged  with  the  un- 
expected responsibility  of  the  care  of  a  lady  of  much  social 
consequence,  and  one  personally  extremel}-  dear  to  him, 
who  was  stricken  with  an  illness  that  demanded  the  most 
elllcient  attendance  and  complete  isolation  from  disturb- 
ing intluences.  Added  to  the  present  necessity  of  gaining 
the  confidence  of  the  disorganized  trooi)s,  and  of  continu- 
ing the  march  with  the  most  unrelaxing  vigilance,  the 
situation  thus  became  most  onerous  to  the  young  com- 
mander, —  not  the  less  so  because  of  the  presence  of  a 
man  he  had  thwarted  and  displaced,  and  whom  it  was 
uecessar}'  to  keep  in  view  and  perhaps  conciliate. 


396 


CI/ATA   AND   CiriNlTA. 


v^' 


».;!»<  ■ 


** 


Upon  the  next  night  adtcr  the  arrival  of  Gonzales,  when 
Uuiz  with  seeming  cordiality  though  with  relief  and  rage 
contending  in  his  mind  had  yielded  his  command,  ho  strode 
to  the  outskirts  of  the  camp,  and  smoking  or  rather  for- 
getting to  smoke  a  cigarette,  mentally  reviewed  with  bit- 
ter disappointment  the  perplexing  and  contlicting  events 
tliat  had  led  to  so  utter  an  overthrowal  of  his  carefully 
concocted  schemes.  With  the  rapidity  and  excitement  of 
his  thoughts,  his  pace  increased  as  though  he  was  striving 
to  tread  down  his  mortification  while  ho  was  preparing 
therefor  a  speedy  and  certain  revenge. 

The  thought  of  this  was  chiefly  directed  toward  Chinita. 
But  for  her  flight  Uuiz  doubted  not  his  position  would  have 
been  so  firmly  assured  that  ho  would  have  been  cnal)led  to 
carry  out  his  schemes.  Thus  he  had  hoped  to  find  himself 
xX,  tlie  head  of  a  force  which  in  the  event  of  final  victory 
would  have  recommended  him  to  the  highest  honors  in  the 
gift  of  Juarez,  or  at  any  rate  assured  him  against  the 
vengeance  of  Ramirez.  To  treachery  time  had  added 
actual  hatred  of  the  man  who  had  befriended  him,  and 
whose  evil  deeds,  while  he  professed  to  abhor  them,  ho 
would  have  rejoiced  to  have  courage  and  address  to  imi- 
tate, and  of  whom  ho  still  held  a  superstitious  dread, 
which  had  once  been  absolute  awe. 

It  maddened  the  recreant  follower  of  Ramirez  to  think 
of  Chinita  in  the  power  of  such  a  man.  That  day  the  last 
wild  escapade  of  the  lawless  adventurer,  the  vorture  of 
Pedro,  had  in  some  way  reached  the  cars  of  Ruiz  and 
destroyed  a  lingering  hope  he  had  cherished  that  the  girl, 
proud  and  hard  though  he  believed  her,  had  in  some  im- 
pulse of  affection  gone  to  her  foster-father,  —  a  thought 
that  he  had  not  even  hinted  to  Doffa  Isabel,  for  with 
petty  spite  he  refrained  from  uttering  that  which  he 
imagined  might  give  relief  to  her  long  agony.  He  imag- 
ined how  Chinita,  who  doubtless  had  seen  through  his 
double  dealing,  would  make  it  contemptible  by  her  scorn, 
and  ridiculous  with  her  irony ;  and  how  Ramirez  would, 
after  listening  to  her  account  of  him  rise  his  sworn  enemy : 
Ruiz  had  witnessed  such  scenes.  No ;  return  to  Ramirez 
was  impossible.  Besides,  that  chieftain's  ultimate  defeat 
was  certain :  the  Liberal  cause  was  strengthening  every 
hour.     Ramirez  must  have  lost  his  former  keenness  to 


C II ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


307 


Gonzalca,  when 
roUof  aiul  rti^o 
araand,  ho  strode 
ug  or  rather  tor- 
viewed  with  bit- 
lontUctiiig  events 
of  his  carefully 
,nd  excitement  of 
h  ho  was  striving 
to  was  preparing 

d  toward  Chinita. 
(sition  would  havo 

0  been  enabled  to 
,cd  to  find  himself 
nt  of  final  victory 
host  honors  in  tho 

1  him  against  tho 
time  had  added 

friended  him,  and 
o  abhor  them,  ho 
nd  address  to  imi- 
iperstitious  dread, 

'  Ramirez  to  think 
That  day  tho  last 
:er,  the  loiture  of 
ears  of  Ruiz  and 
Lshcd  that  tho  girl, 
%  had  in  some  im- 
athor,  — a  thought 
X  Isabel,  for  with 
ng   that  which  ho 
agony.    He  imag- 
seen  through  his 
^tiblc  by  her  scorn, 
»w  Ramirez  would, 
3  his  sworn  enemy : 
return  to  Ramirez 
n's  ultimate  defeat 
lengthening  every 
irmer  keenness  to 


follow  thus  a  losing  venture.  Ruiz  began  to  console  hlm- 
siilf  by  thouglitH  of  liow,  though  only  in  a  subordinate  part, 
he  should  assist  in  the  diHcoinllture  of  the  proud  general 
and  that  of  the  girl  who  loved  him,  —  for  the  ignoble  youth 
was  incapable  of  believing  hers  to  be  the  love  of  a  uuto 
lunvasoning  child,  though  to  a  purer  heart  her  words  would 
have  a  thousand  times  declared  her  enthusiasm  to  be  but 
a  fanatical  admiration,  untouched  by  a  tinge  of  i)assion. 
Tlie  maddening  jealousy  that  had  raged  in  the  heart  of 
Ruiz  since  he  had  learned  of  tiie  fiight  of  (^'hinila,  and  had 
rendered  him  incapal>Ie  of  a  sustained  cllbrt  to  renew  tho 
ambitious  projects  so  fatally  shaken,  now  llamed  up  with 
cruel  intensity ;  and  yet  he  loved  her.  At  that  moment 
he  would  have  lik(>d  to  throttle  her,  yet  would  have  re- 
called her  to  life  with  words  of  passionate  love  and  burn- 
ing kisses. 

As  he  pondered,  he  struck  his  breast  with  his  clinched 
hand.  "  Caramha  I "  he  muttered,  "  is  all  lost?  Is  there 
no  waj'  to  overset  this  miserable  favorite  of  the  Senora? 
Maria  Hanctissima!  who  is  that?"  His  hand  like  a  Hash 
passed  to  his  pistol. 

"  Hist  I  "  said  a  voice.  *'  It  is  I,  Fernando.  I  have  not 
a  moment  to  spare.  I  have  tried  to  gain  a  way  to  thee  for 
an  hour  or  more.  1  know  all  that  has  passed.  Fool ! 
thou  shouldst  havo  raised  the  battle-cry  for  Ramirez  be- 
fore this  Gonzales  reached  thee ;  there  were  men  with 
theo  who  would  have  sustained  thee  well ! " 

"Bah!  a  man  has  opinions,"  answered  Ruiz,  coolly, 
recognizing  the  voice;  "and  if  Ramirez  still  chooses  to 
fight  for  tho  priests,  that  is  no  argument  for  my  being  as 
mad.  I  tell  you  plainly,  Father,  1  am  tired  of  playing  a 
boy's  part ;  j'ou  will  hear  of  me  j'et  as  something  moro 
than  the  lieutenant  of  Gonzales." 

"•  Big  words,  big  words,"  laughed  Tio  Reyes.  "  Now 
listen  to  that  which  I  have  to  say  to  you ;  "  and  leaning 
from  his  saddle  in  a  few  concise  words  he  delivered  tho 
nicsaage  of  Ramirez,  adding  a  few  paternal  injunctions 
as  to  the  conduct  Ruiz  should  in  future  observe. 

"Up  to  this  time  nothing  is  lost,"  ho  continued;  "in 
truth  had  j'ou  acted  in  good  faith,  no  course  could  havo 
been  better  save  this  last  step,  — but  that  may  easily  be  re- 
called.   Ramirez  will  soon  be  prepared  to  attack  Gonzales 


is 


i 


398 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


11    is  I 


i^  I 


(    !     f 


in  force  ;  his  mind  was  set  on  regaining  El  Toro,  but  that 
can  be  deferred.  '  When  the  loaf  is  cut  the  crumbs  maj-  be 
soon  eaten ! '  Be  j'ou  prepared  to  pass  over  to  your  right- 
ful commander  at  the  last  moment  with  all  your  men.  The 
rest  of  the  troop  will  follow  like  sheep.  Bah  !  what  is  the 
name  of  Gonzales  to  that  of  Ramirez !  With  the  forces 
we  could  then  combine,  what  might  we  not  attempt!  I 
promise  you  in  the  name  of  Ramirez,  on  his  honor  as  a 
soldier  and  his  faith  as  your  godfather,  a  free  pardon  for 
all  that  has  passed.  Varamba^  man !  I  can't  imagine 
how  3'ou  could  have  been  so  mad.  I  have  seen  the  girl 
who  has  bewitched  3'OU,  and  b}'  my  faith  I  thought  her 
nothing  more  than  any  other  brown  chit,  save  that  her  e^'es 
were  darker  and  bigger  than  most,  and  her  tongue  sharper 
than  a  man  cares  to  find  between  his  wife's  lips !  What, 
you  hesitate  ?  You  believe  Ramirez  at  the  bottom  of  a  pit, 
and  the  pit  dr}^  ?  Fool !  He  has  treasure  you  know  noth- 
ing of;  and  as  for  men,  did  the  mountain  villages  ever 
fail  him  ?  —  and  yon  know  how  many  may  be  counted  on 
here.  Caramba,  try  them!  Tell  them  he  has  sacked 
Tres  Hermanos." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Ruiz,  thoughtfull}^,  "  and  doubtless  the 
boot}'  was  great !  " 

Rej-es  shrugged  his  shoulders  but  did  not  contradict 
him,  reiterating  again  and  again  the  assurances  of  the 
favor  of  Ramirez  in  the  event  of  Ruiz's  acceptance  of  his 
proposals,  and  on  the  contrary  the  chiefs  determination  to 
wreak  an  awful  vengeance  upon  his  god-child  should  he 
prove  obdurate  and  attempt  to  carry  to  injurious  lengths 
the  treacherous  intrigues  which  he  had  designed  against 
his  benefactor. 

Ruiz  vehemently  denied  his  guilt,  yet  hesitated  to  make 
promises  which,  whether  kept  or  broken,  might  make  still 
more  dubious  his  future  position.  Reyes  read  his  mind, 
and  at  length  said  cooll}',  — 

"  The  fact  is,  you  have  been  bred  a  servant  of  Ramirez. 
When  I  swore  the  service  of  my  life  to  him,  yours  went 
with  it.  You  are  the  one  creature  in  the  world  he  has  never 
met  with  a  frown  or  given  a  harsh  word  to  ;  but  do  you  think 
he  will  spare  3'ou  for  that  ?  No ;  if  3'ou  should  fall  into  his 
hands  as  a  traitor,  which  sooner  or  later  you  would  be  sure 
to  do,  3'ou  would  be  shot !     Yes,  like  a  dog,  —  "  and  the 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


399 


"  and  doubtless  the 


servant  of  Ramirez, 
to  him,  yours  went 
e  world  he  has  never 
to ;  but  do  you  think 
I  sliould  fall  into  his 
>r  you  would  be  sure 
a  dog, -"and  the 


speaker  spat  on  the  ground  to  emphasize  his  contempt. 
"•  liui  if  y^'i  are  reasonable  he  will  forget  all  that  has 
passed,  —  more  than  I  would  do  in  his  place  I  can  tell 
you ;  ay,  he  will  even  give  you  his  daughter." 

"  His  daughter !  "  echoed  Ruiz  with  a  sneer. 

"  On  my  soul,  you  must  be  hard  to  please,"  cried  his 
father.  "  For  the  girl's  sake  I  was  sony  enough  he  killed 
the  fool  of  a  gatekeeper  five  days  ago.  For  all  her  proud 
ways,  she  loved  him  like  a  child,  —  more  than  she  will 
love  Ramirez  though  he  is  her  father,  when  she  hears 
of  this  mad  deed." 

Ruiz  sprung  to  his  side.  "What  do  you  mean?"  he 
cried,  seizing  his  arm.  "  Is  Chinita  the  daughter  of  Ra- 
mirez ?  Is  she  with  him  ?  Is  she  indeed  the  girl  who  has 
been  promised  to  me  for  these  years  and  years?  Por 
Dios^  what  would  I  not  do  for  her?  "What  would  I  not 
dare?  But  I  do  not  believe  it.  Ramirez  knows  I  love 
her ;  this  is  but  a  deception.     Ah.  I  know  him  too  well !  " 

Reyes  laughed.  "  He  told  me  if  you  were  not  satisfied 
you  might  go  and  see  for  yourself.  Faith,  he  had  no 
thought  you  loved  her  already.  I  met  him  on  the  road  as 
he  came  back  from  leaving  her.  Does  that  surprise  you  ? 
He  is  a  careful  father ;  she  is  in  the  house  of  the  Sefiora's 
daughter,  Doiia  Carmen." 

Ruiz  seemed  stunned.  Reyes  saw  that  his  point  was 
gained,  and  uttered  but  a  few  words  more,  which  elicited 
only  the  response,  —  "  Ramirez's  daugliter?  Wonderful, 
wonderful !  And  after  all,  she  will  be  mine.  Heavens ! 
how  can  I  live  a  da}-  longer  without  seeing  her?  Com- 
mend me  to  the  'jcrtor  General.  You  know,  my  father, 
my  heart  is  goo'l,  though  my  brain  may  have  erred  !  Tell 
me,  has  she  yaid  but  one  good  word  for  me  ?     She  —  " 

"  Enou^u!  "  c'ied  Re^yes,  laughing  the  more.  "  I  have 
not  seen  her,  I  tell  thee  ;  and  if  thou  wouldst  know  what 
she  thinks,  find  a  pretext  and  see  her  at  Doiia  Carmen's 
house.  It  was  a  strange  freak  of  the  General's  to  take 
her  there,  but  a  happy  one.  Thop  shalt  not  be  molested 
on  the  wa}',  I  promise  thee.  But  I  have  no  further  time 
for  talking.  Adios !  thou  art  the  only  man  I  have  ever 
seen  whom  love  has  brought  to  his  right  senses.  It  will 
be  well  if  thou  art  as  sane  a  vcar  after  the  wedding !  " 

The  two  men  embraced,  in  the  fashion  of  the  countrv. 


i 


-■^amaaaam 


i(*  ' 


iW* 


I     M   « 


lUrii' 


%  1 


iTIi 


400 


CI/ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


and  with  an  ardor  on  the  part  of  Ruiz  that  he  seldom 
affected. 

*'  Varamha!  the  father  is  a  man  of  a  thousand,"  he 
muttered  to  himself  as  lie  watched  him  disappear,  guid- 
ing his  horse  so  deftly  that  not  a  sound  broke  the  silence 
of  the  night.  "  Virgin  of  consolation  !  "  he  continued,  as 
he  walked  slowly  back  to  his  quarters.  "  This  is  like  a 
dream.  Plague  upon  it !  That  is  the  fault  of  my  father ; 
he  is  always  in  haste.  I  would  have  asked  him  a  thousand 
questions,  had  he  given  me  but  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  IJut 
it  is  of  Chinita  herself  I  will  ask  tliem.  Surely  she  must 
have  shown  some  favor  toward  me,  or  my  godfather 
would  not  recommend  me  to  her  with  such  confidence. 
/Santo  Nino,  show  me  some  way  to  make  it  possible  to 
steal  into  Guanapila  and  exchange  a  word  with  her ! " 

The  curiosity  of  the  young  man  as  much  as  his  love 
prompted  the  latter  aspiration.  His  suspicion  of  the  iden- 
tity of  Ramirez  with  the  brother  of  Dona  Isabel,  the  Leon 
Valle  so  long  supposed  dead,  returned  to  him  with  force ; 
but  he  longed  to  know  whether  the  secret  of  her  birth  had 
been  conveyed  to  Chinita,  and  how  her  flight  had  been 
contrived.  He  pictured  her  then  like  a  bird  in  a  cage 
beating  herself  against  the  iron  bars  of  Doiia  Carmen's 
windows.  That  was  not  what  she  had  hoped  for  when 
she  had  talked  to  him  of  Ramirez.  If  she  had  tolerated 
hira  before,  would  he  not  now  be  doubly  dean  as  one 
who  should  liberate  her  from  the  natural  restraints  of  a 
maiden's  life? 

Ruiz  forgot  his  fancied  wrongs  in  an  intoxication  of 
delight.  Constant  pondering  upon  the  question  how  he 
should  manage  to  evade  the  vigilance  and  suspicions  of 
Gonzales  and  effect  a  visit  to  Guanapila  kept  him  pre- 
occupied, yet  feverishl}'  alert,  until  the  increased  indisposi- 
tion of  Dona  Isabel  brought  about  what  appeared  to  him 
a  special  interposition  in  his  behalf,  and  in  pleading  Cor  the 
aid  of  "  Our  Lady  of  the  Impossible"  he  promised  her  ia 
inous  gratitude  a  candle  of  enormous  proi)ortions. 

To  reach  a  point  where  he  might  leave  his  generous  but 
failing  friend  had  become  the  most  earnest  desire  of  Gon- 
zales. But  its  fulfilment  had  seemed  an  impossibility,  for 
from  the  time  he  assumed  command  of  the  troops  almost 
hourly  news  had  been  brought  to  him  of  gatherings  of 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


401 


bUat  he  seldom 

,  thousand,"  ho 
lisappcar,  guid- 
i-oke  the  silence 
[ic  continued,  as 
ii  This  is  like  a 

lit  of  my  fa^^^^''  *: 

\  him  a  thousand 
of  an  hour.    But 

Surely  she  must 
)r  my   godfather 

such  confidence. 
,kc  it  possible  to 
^  with  her  1 
much  as  his  love 
nicionoft\\eiden- 

a  Isabel,  the  Leon 
to  him  with  force; 

et  of  her  birth  had 
,cr  flight  had  been 
t  a  bVrd  in  a  cage 
of  Dona  Carmen  s 
,d  hoped  for  when 
f  she  had  tolerated 
3ubly  deaiN  as  one 
iiral  restraints  ot  a 

an  intoxication  of 

ic  question  how  Ue 

£  and  suspicions  ot 

fpila  kept  him  pvc- 

incrcascd  indisposi- 

vat  appeared  to  -n 

[d  in  pleading  1  oi  H'"^ 

I'  he  promised  her  lii 

Inroportions. 

I  ive  his  generous  but 

l-nest  desire  of  C^oi^ 

fan  impossibility,  for 

of  the  troops  almost 
[urn  of  gathcrmgs  ot 


bands  of  Conservatives,  which  promised  to  offer  formidablo 
resistance  to  any  movement  he  might  make;  and  until 
Dona  Isabel  was  safelj'  disposed  of,  he  desired  at  almost 
any  risk  to  avoid  an  open  collision. 

The  march  had  slowly  proceeded,  and  so  constantly  had 
Gonzales  been  occupied,  and  so  serious  became  the  con- 
dition of  Dona  Isabel,  that  there  was  but  little  conversa- 
tion between  them,  and  somewhat  to  his  impatience  that 
on  her  part  had  been  limited  to  a  few  brief  sentences  of 
warning  against  Ruiz  and  constant  inquiries  for  Chinita, 
and  entreaties  that  search  should  be  made  for  her  in 
every  direction. 

Gonzales,  as  far  as  was  possible,  had  obeyed  these  in- 
opportune   requests ;    but    the    anxiety   and    grief   that 
prompted  them  seemed  to  him  strained  and  unnatural, 
though  he  could  not  doubt  after  due  inquiry  made  that  the 
lost  girl  was  of  remarkable  beauty  and  of  an  original  and 
fascinating  character.     Still,  his  knowledge  of  the  class 
whence  he  supposed  her  sprung  had  made  quite  credible 
to  him  the  generally  accepted  theory  of  her  flight.    Yet 
he  started  when  Dona  Isabel  had  mentioned  the  Americun 
as  her  probable  companion  or  instigator,  adding  in  a  low 
voice,  "  Twice  an  American  has  robbed  him."    What  did 
she  mean  ?    His  cheek  flushed  as  he  remembered  that  it 
had  been  said  that  for  love  of  the  murdered  Ashle}',  Her- 
linda  had  taken  the  veil.     And  had  Dona  Isabel  dreamed 
that  he  would  find  consolation  after  so  many  year"^  in  this 
beautiful  peasant  girl  whom  she  had  raised  from  tlie  dust? 
Gonzales  silently  resented  the  insinuation.    Yet  none  the 
less  the  suggestion  of  the  complicity  of  the  American  in 
her  disappearance  haunted  and  vexed  him.     He  did  not 
tell  Dona  Isabel  that  to  Ward  he  owed  the  definite  news 
of  the  approach  of  reinforcements,  and  that  he  had  vir- 
tually left  him  in  charge  of  El  Toro,  and  that  the  com- 
mission from  Juarez  for  which  the  foreigner  had  applied 
had  alread}-^  doubtless  reached  him.      Had  he  betrayed 
this  young  girl,  —  the  protegee  of  Dona  Isabel,  —  in  spite 
of  his  zeal  in  his  service  the  American  should  have  much 
to  answer  for  to  him.     A  few  weeks  would  decide  all. 
He  prefen'cd  to  wait  patiently  the  development  of  affairs, 
and  refrained  from  perplexing  further  the  mind  of  Dofia 
Isabel. 


M 


'i''.f^;. 


n 


m 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


Meanwhile  the  condition  of  the  lady  had  become  rapidly 
worse.  Perhaps  she  had  brought  from  Tres  Hermanos 
the  germs  of  the  disease  that  during  these  very  days  was 
working  such  terrible  havoc  there ;  perhaps  the  long  daj'S 
and  nights  of  exertion,  anxiety,  and  grief  had  produced 
it,  —  but  certain  it  is  that  as  the  position  of  Gonzales 
became  more  critical,  so  the  imminent  danger  of  Doiia 
Isabel  increased.  A  desperate  evil  commands  a  desperate 
remedy.  So  it  was  at  length  decided  that  an  etfort  should 
be  made  to  convey  the  lady  to  the  city  of  Guanapilu,  to 
the  house  of  her  dauglitcr  Doiia  Carmen ;  and  liuiz,  in 
the  utter  impossibility  that  Gonzales  found  of  personally 
conducting  the  party,  was  permitted  to  execute  the  deli- 
cate and  important  trust. 

With  an  apparent  readiness  of  resource  and  disregard 
of  danger,  which  commended  him  greatly  to  the  perplexed 
General,  Ruiz  himself  had  proposed  the  measure. 

Taking  the  precaution  to  send  with  him  men  from  Tres 
Hermanos  only,  and  such  as  he  knew  to  be  warmly  de- 
voted to  their  mistress,  Gonzales  acceded  to  the  plans 
of  the  wily  young  oiHccr,  and  despatched  him  upon  the 
important  and  seemingly  dangerous  mission. 

After  the  separation  of  the  detailed  party  from  the 
main  body,  skirmishing  parties  began  upon  the  latter  fre- 
quent and  harassing  attacks,  and  the  suspicions  of  Gon- 
zales were  again  aroused  by  the  impunity  which  Ruiz 
enjoyed,  yet  alternated  with  fears  for  his  ultimate  safety. 
He  could  scarcely  believe  that  knowing  it  to  be  in  their 
power  to  secure  so  rich  a  prize  as  Dona  Isabel,  the  hun- 
gry forces  of  the  clergy  would  suffer  her  to  escape,  unless 
indeed  Ruiz  was  himself  as  false  as  he  had  once  suspected. 
Again  and  again  he  reproached  himsell  for  yielding  to  the 
apparent  frankness  and  loyalty  of  the  man  he  had  at  first 
distrusted,  and  with  an  anxiety  which  grew  into  actual 
torture  he  awaited  the  outcome  of  the  action  which 
circumstances  against  his  will  and  judgment  had  forced 
upon  him. 

Ruiz,  nnmolostod,  made  his  way  as  rapidly  as  the  condi- 
tion of  his  charge  permitted  toward  Guanapila.  He  com- 
prehended well  the  circumstances  which  were  distracting 
the  mind  of  Gonzales.  These  constant  though  petty  at- 
tacks he  knew  from  information  sent  by  Reyes  were 


CHATA   AND   CIIINJTA. 


403 


1  become  rapWly 

Tre8  Hermanos 
3e  very  days  was 
ma  the  long  days 
icf  bad  produced 
tion  of  Gonzales 

danger  of  Doiia 
Tiands  a  desperate 
at  an  effort  should 
SI  of  Guanapila,  to 
[en ;  and  Uuiz,  m 
)und  of  personally 
>  execute  the  deli- 

urce  and  disregard 
tly  to  the  perplexed 
3  measure, 
him  men  from  Tres 
,  to  be  warmly  de- 
seeded to  the  plans 
^ched  him  upon  the 
mission. 

lied  party  from  the 
upon  the  latter  fre- 
,  suspicions  of  Gon- 
Lpunity  which  Rmz 
I  his  ultimate  safety. 
Lcr  it  to  be  in  their 
onlv  Isabel,  the  hun- 
lier  to  escape,  unless 
.  had  once  suspected. 

.y  for  Yielding  to  the 
:e  man  he  had  at  firs 
^ich  grew  into  actual 
of  the   action   which 
judgment  had  forced 

L  rapidly  as  the  concVi- 
iGuinapila.  He  com- 
Ihich  were  distracting 

Lnt  though  petty  at. 

fsent  by  lieycs  were 


destined  to  weaken  the  prestige  of  Gonzales  by  a  series 
of  petty  misadventures,  after  which  his  destruction  by 
the  desertion  of  Ruiz,  followed  by  the  mass  of  the  dis- 
atfected,  might,  it  was  conjectured,  be  readily  accom- 
plished. It  seemed  the  simplest  matter  in  the  world  to 
effect,  and  had  been  instantl}'  agreed  to  by  Ruiz  in  the 
hasty  conference  with  his  father.  Yet  further  reflection 
gave  him  an  unaccountable  antipathy  to  the  course  he  was 
to  pursue.  It  cannot  be  said  that  a  lingering  trace  of 
honor  influenced  him,  or  any  genuine  disapproval  of  the 
character  or  convictions  of  Ramirez,  for  Ruiz  was  in  the 
widest  sense  a  man  to  be  bought  and  sold,  a  creature  in- 
fluenced by  every  turn  of  advuiitage ;  but  in  spite  of  all  that 
had  passed  between  him  and  Reyes,  he  doubted  the  good 
faith  of  Ramirez.  The  good  fortune  that  was  to  give 
him  Chinita  at  so  slight  a  cost  seemed  to  him  incredible. 
Did  the  girl  love  him,  and  had  she  owned  as  much?  Or 
was  she  to  be  fooled  into  acquiescence  in  the  plans  oZ 
Ramirez  by  the  chimera  of  his  parental  power  ?  No ;  he 
knew  Chinita  too  well  to  believe  she  would  marry  against 
her  own  desire,  even  to  gratify  a  parent  who  exerted  over 
her  the  extraordinary  ascendency  that  she  had  instinctively 
acknowledged  in  Ramirez.  Ruiz  was,  moreover,  impressed 
with  a  belief  in  the  ultimate  disaster  of  the  Conservative 
cause.  For  Chinita's  sake  he  would  risk  involvement  in 
the  ruin  he  foresaw,  hoping  that;  by  some  spar  he  himself 
might  float ;  but  unless  assured  of  her  good-will,  —  the 
thoughts  of  the  young  conspirator  carried  him  no  further, 
unless  vaguely  to  conjecture  the  extent  of  power  which  he 
might  thereafter  exert  over  tlie  fortunes  of  Dofia  Isabel, 
through  his  connection  with  her  m3'stcrious  j>rotegGe. 

With  ill-concealed  impatience,  and  hopes  and  emotions 
which  every  hour  grew  more  dazzling  and  overpowering, 
Ruiz  at  length  found  himself  in  the  house  of  Doiia  Carmen, 
and  in  her  presence  and  that  of  her  young  companion. 
With  inexpressible  amazement,  instead  of  her  he  sought 
he  found  himself  face  to  face  with  Chata,  the  supposed 
daughter  of  Don  Rafael. 

The  confusion  and  excitement  of  the  arrival  gave  al- 
most instantly  an  opportunity  for  him  to  pour  into  the 
ear  of  the  young  girl  the  burning  questions  which  rushed 
to  his  lips.     In  the  necessity  in  which  she  found  herself 


1; 


404 


CffATA   AND  CHINITA. 


mm 


to  attend  instantly  the  wants  of  her  mother,  Dona  Car- 
men  left  the  young  soldier  and  her  charge  alone  together. 
Breathlessly  demanding  of  Chata  news  of  Chinita,  Ruiz  re- 
vealed to  the  astounded  girl  the  separation  of  her  playmate 
from  Dona  Isabel,  the  mystery  of  her  flight,  and  the  ex- 
traordinary purposes  which  the  young  girl  had  cherished 
in  relation  to  Ramirez.  In  ever}'  word  too  he  be  .-rayed 
his  own  love  for  her  he  denounced,  and  the  raging 
jealousy  which  possessed  him. 

Chata  in  her  extreme  agitation,  forgetting  the  promises 
she  had  made,  revealed  her  own  connection  with  Ramirez, 
in  describing  in  a  few  brief  sentences  the  scenes  which 
had  taken  place  at  Tres  Hermanos,  and  especially  the 
means  by  which  she  had  saved  Don  Rafael.  She  could 
not  comprehend  the  rage  and  disgust  with  which  Ruiz 
flung  himself  from  her  when  she  announced  herself  to 
be  the  daughter  of  Ramirez,  but  a  moment  later  it  flashed 
upon  her  that  she  had  heard  herself  named  as  the  destined 
bride  of  this  man  who  so  openly  despised  her.  Had  ho 
too  known  of  the  destiny  awarded  him?  She  turned 
from  him  with  a  burning  blush,  and  without  a  word  they 
parted.  She  remembered  afterward  that  she  might  per- 
haps have  sent  news  to  the  hacienda,  —  to  her  foster- 
father  Don  Rafael,  to  Dona  Feliz  did  she  still  live ; 
but  her  one  chance  had  gone,  and  her  semi-imprisonment 
began  anew.  Dofia  Carmen  was  not  again  betrayed  into 
a  momentary  forgetfulness  of  her  charge. 

Ruiz  turned  from  the  house  with  a  thousand  conflicting 
emotions.  The  encounter  with  Chata  had  produced  in  his 
mind  an  absolute  fury  of  resentment,  as  he  reflected  that 
this  was  the  girl  whom  Ramirez  had  promised  him  as  his 
wife,  —  in  his  boyhood  jestingly  ;  in  his  manhood  as  a  re- 
ward, an  incentive.  Heavens !  what  was  this  puny  creature 
in  comparison  with  Chinita?  And  Chinita  was  perhaps  at 
that  very  moment  with  Ramirez,  —  perhaps  even  laughing 
with  him  over  the  weakness  and  discomfiture  of  the 
youth  they  had  combined  to  deceive!  With  blind  and 
insensate  rage,  Ruiz  believed  himself  the  victim  of  a  con- 
spiracy between  Ramirez  and  his  own  father  to  substitute 
this  girl  for  the  peerless  creature  that  he  loved,  and  who 
doubtless  was  at  that  moment  in  the  camp  of  her  trium- 
phant lover.    They  had  thought  to  entrap  him  into  fur- 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


405 


her,  Dofia  Car- 
alone  together, 
jhinita,  Ruiz  re- 
of  her  playmate 
Tht,  and  the  cx- 
\\  had  cherished 
too  he  beu-ayed 
and  the  raging 

;ing  the  promises 
on  with  Ramirez, 
the  scenes  which 
nd  especially  the 
afael.    She  could 
with  which  Ruiz 
)unced  herself  to 
Biit  later  it  flashed 
cd  as  the  destmed 
scd  her.     Had  ho 
lim?     She  turned 
thout  a  word  they 
lat  she  might  per- 
^  —  to  her  foster- 
lid  she  still  live; 
semi-imprisonment 

gain  betrayed  into 

rge. 

housand  conflicting 

lad  produced  in  his 
as  he  reflected  that 
'omised  him  as  his 
is  manhood  as  a  re- 
s  this  puny  creature 
iiita  was  perhaps  at 
•haps  even  laughing 
liscomfiture    of  the 
!     With  blind  and 
iie  victim  of  a  con- 
father  to  substitute 
b  he  loved,  and  who 
camp  of  her  trium- 
sntrap  him  into  fur- 


thering their  designs,  deeming  it  impossible  that  he  should 
enter  Guanapila  and  discover  the  trick  that  was  to  bo 
played  upon  him. 

Ruiz  did  not  for  a  moment  conceive  it  possible  that 
Ramirez  had  known  nothing  of  his  love  for  Chinita,  or 
that  his  father  had  himself  been  ignorant  of  the  identity 
of  the  girl  whom  Ramirez  had  claimed  as  his  daughter, 
or  that  Reyes  had  drawn  a  false  conclusion  from  his  own 
hasty  questions. 

In  this  mood  Ruiz  was  presently  met  by  old  acquain- 
tances, before  whom  he  was  forced  to  mask  his  excitement ; 
and  moreover  they  were  in  festive  humor,  which  prevented 
them  from  being  observant  or  critical.  The  town,  but 
imperfectly  garrisoned,  had  for  some  time  held  an  anxious 
and  harassed  populace,  prognosticating  nothing  but  inva- 
sion and  the  levy  of  forced  loans  ;  but  it  chanced  that  on 
thai  day  a  guest  had  arrived,  who  by  the  mere  magic  of 
his  presence,  unattractive  and  unimpressive  v  >  was  his 
bearing,  inspired  confidence  and  hope.  Benito  Juarez 
himself  had  made  one  of  those  secret  incursions  for 
which  he  was  famed,  and  had  reached  Guanapila  ':yith 
the  purpose  of  conferring  with  such  officers  of  his  party 
as  had  ventured  to  meet  him.  There  were  but  few,  and 
Ruiz  was  honored  by  an  invitation  to  represent  Gonzales. 
This  deference  paid  him  as  a  delegate  from  so  important 
a  leader,  in  command  of  so  considerable  a  force,  raised 
to  its  highest  pitch  the  absolute  fury  of  resentment  that 
convulsed  the  desperate  lover;  and  at  the  banquet  that 
followed  the  conference,  the  wine  and  flattering  notice  of 
the  Liberal  President  completed  the  overthrow  of  the  little 
caution  that  he  had  hitherto  maintained  in  his  speech  and 
demeanor. 

The  toasts  drunk  were  loud  and  frequent,  and  the  nar»e 
of  Ramirez  was  the  most  deeply  execrated.  Many  of  the 
young  men  indulged  in  extravagant  boasts  and  declara- 
tions as  to  the  deeds  they  would  accomplish  in  the  near 
future,  scorning  the  prowess  of  the  man  at  whose  very  name 
thoy  were  accustomed  to  tremble.  Some  one  spoke  with  a 
laugh  of  a  beautiful  girl  who  had  been  seen  in  his  company 
but  a  few  davs  before.  It  was  not  until  afterward  that 
Ruiz  reflected  that  the  spy  had  probably  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Chata  on  her  way  from  Tres  Hermanos.  At  the  moment 


i 


40G 


CITATA   AND  CHINITA. 


!i 


his  mind  was  full  of  Chinita,  and  rising  impetuously,  in  a 
torrent  of  fiery  words  he  broke  into  denunciation  and  in- 
vective, telling  the  tale  of  Pedro's  martyrdom  as  he  had 
heard  it,  and  vowing  that  as  Ramirez  had  slain  the  poor 
peasant,  so  he  himself  would  accomplish  the  defeat  and  r 
death  of  the  "  mountain  wolf."  "  I  promise  you,  Seiiores,"  ^ 
he  concluded,  "  that  when  you  next  hear  of  Fernando 
Ruiz  you  shall  have  cause  to  remember  the  vow  I  have 
here  made.     Ramirez  is  doomed  !  " 

The  stoical  man  at  the  head  of  the  table  smiled  faintly 
at  the  storm  of  applause  that  followed  this  speech,  and  as 
Ruiz  a  few  minutes  later  took  his  departure  Juarez  mut- 
tered to  his  neighbor,  "That  young  fellow  will  bear  .match- 
ing. He  hiis  either  a  tremendous  personal  wrong  to 
avenge,  or  he  is  striving  to  mislead  us.  I  know  him  to 
be  the  godson  of  this  very  Ramirez,  whom  he  thundors 
against.  A  Mexican  may  turn  against,  may  even  murder, 
his  own  father ;  but  his  godfather,  —  he  must  be  a  rene- 
gade indeed  to  attempt  his  destruction  ! "  His  neighbor 
assented. 

When  the  words  of  Ruiz  were  reported  to  Ramirez,  — • 
as  reported  they  were  a  few  days  later,  —  he  smiled  as 
grimly  as  Benito  Juarez  himself  had  done.  "  The  cockerel 
crows  loud,"  he  said.  *'  He  was  alwaj's  a  blusterer. 
Well,  we  shall  see ;  a  week  at  latest  will  decide  all  that. 
Bah !  if  the  fellow  but  had  in  him  the  blood  of  his  father ! 
—  but  with  the  name  of  his  mother  he  must  have  taken  a 
braggart's  tongue.  It  will  be  well  for  him  if  he  does  not 
wearj  mv  patience  in  the  end.  But  for  my  promise  to 
Reyes—'" 

He  frowned  darkly.  Had  Ruiz  seen  the  face  of  his 
godfather  then  he  might  have  repented  his  boast.  As 
it  was,  his  own  mad  words  served  as  a  spur  urging  him 
to  the  inevitable  future.  He  returned  to  the  camp  of 
Gonzales  unmolested,  and  was  received  with  intense 
relief,  with  thanks  and  praises,  yet  wore  thereafter  a 
dark  and  vengeful  face. 


XLII. 


,eGn  the  face  of  his 
ted  his  boast.  As 
a  spur  urging  him 
led  to  the  camp  ot 
;eived  with  intense 
t  wore  thereafter  a 


The  arrival  of  Dofia  Isabel  at  the  house  of  her  daughter 
brought  a  change  into  the  life  of  Chata  that  might  have  been 
considered  even  more  dreary  and  oppressive  than  the  scini- 
imprisonraent  to  which  she  had  thus  far  been  subjected, 
though  she  was  spoken  of  as  an  honored  guest.  In  fact 
this  change  was  most  welcome  to  the  young  girl ;  for  while 
it  afforded  her  even  less  freedom  of  movement,  it  gave  a 
sufHcient  reason  for  her  seclusion,  as  also  occupation  both 
to  body  and  mind. 

What  had  been  the  nature  of  the  communication  that 
Ramirez  had  made  to  Doiia  Carmen,  Chata  knew  not,  but 
it  had  evidently  impressed  that  lady  with  a  deep  sense 
of  responsibility.  In  those  days  there  were  even  in  the 
quietest  times  no  regular  mails  into  the  country  districts, 
and  this  gave  a  ready  pretext  to  Doiia  Carmen  for  resist- 
ing all  attempts  to  communicate  with  the  household  at 
Tres  Hermanos.  The  highways,  infested  as  they  were  by 
roving  bands  of  soldiers  and  banditti,  were  indeed  scarcely 
safe  for  the  transmission  of  even  peaceful  intelhgence ; 
and  thus  none  reached  Guanapila  from  the  hacienda,  and 
Chata,  and  in  a  lesser  degree  Dona  Carmen  herself,  en- 
dured a  painful  uncertainty  as  to  the  condition  of  Don 
Rafael  and  of  Doiia  Feliz  and  others  whom  Chata  had  left 
stricken  with  the  dreaded  fever.  Day  by  day  she  had 
awaited  news  ;  day  by  day  she  had  hoped  for  the  appear- 
ance of  Dona  Isabel  and  Chinita,  — while  Dofia  Carmen, 
after  Hstening  with  astonishment  and  some  manifestations 
of  displeasure  to  the  account  Chata  gave  of  the  departure 
of  her  mother  from  Tres  Hermanos  under  the  escort  of 
troops  destined  to  the  relief  of  Gonzales,  gave  the  opinion 
that  the  destination  she  would  seek  would  be  El  Tore 
rather  than  Guanapila. 

"  My  sister  the  religious  is  at  present  there,"  she  said ; 
and  Chata  with  glowing  face,  and  lips  that  trembled  at 


i'' 


m 


408 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


the  memory,  told  her  of  the  chance  glimpse  she  had  once 
caught  of  the  beautiful  and  saintly  nun. 

Dofia  Carmen's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  silently 
embraced  the  girl ;  the  little  incident  drew  Chata  nearer 
to  her  heart.  "  Ah,  child,"  she  would  say,  "I  never  have 
known,  1  never  could  conjecture,  why  our  beautiful  Iler- 
linda  chose  so  sad  a  life,  —  it  must  be  sad  to  be  shut  away 
from  this  fair  world,  from  sweet  companionship,  from  love. 
Yes,  Ilcrlinda  might  have  chosen  from  among  a  score  of 
the  handsomest  and  noblest  of  cavaliers.  And  then  our 
mother,  —  how  she  loved  her  I  one  might  see  it  through 
all  her  sternness.  I  never  knew  the  truth,  yet  I  am  sure 
a  great  and  terrible  sorrow  caused  Ilcrlinda  to  enter  a 
convent.  She  had  no  inherent  fitness,  no  liking  natural  or 
acquired,  for  such  a  life." 

Doila  Carmen  was  not  accustomed  to  speak  thus  freely 
of  family  affairs.  She  had  much  of  the  characteristic 
reticence  of  the  Garcias.  Chata  met  many  of  the  3'oungor 
members  from  time  to  time.  They  were  too  well  bred  to 
show  any  curiosity  concerning  her ;  but  among  the  servants 
of  the  household  and  of  others,  there  was  much  gossip  as 
to  how  and  why  she  had  come,  and  what  relationship  she 
bore  to  the  husband  of  Doiia  Carmen,  who,  kind  and 
amiable  man  that  he  was,  seemed  to  take  peculiar  pleas- 
ure in  her  companionship.  But  the  arrival  of  Dona  Isabel 
in  an  apparently  dying  condition  turned  all  thoughts  into 
a  new  channel. 

From  the  first,  Chata  had  entreated  to  be  allowed  to 
take  her  part  in  nursing  the  stricken  lady,  but  had  been 
gently  rcfusod.  Thereafter,  the  husband  of  Doiia  Carmen 
used  often  to  see  their  3'oung  guest  gliding  restlessly  about 
the  house  \ainly  seeking  some  distraction  for  her  anxious 
thoughts.  He  did  not  know  the  secret  pain  that  tormented 
her.  He  would  gladly  have  facilitated  her  return  if  he 
could  to  that  Don  Rafael  from  whom  in  a  mad  freak  the 
mountain  chieftain  had  stolen  her ;  j-et  there  were  circum- 
stances,—  there  were  reasons  for  not  offending  one  so 
powerful.  Who  knew?  Guanapila  was  of  course  under 
Liberal  rule  to-day,  but  what  would  it  be  to-morrow? 
The  cautious  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  some- 
thing of  this  to  Chata,  who  smiled  and  thought  him  good 
to  care,  jxt  wondered  with  all  his  goodness  and  his  years, 


ClIATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


409 


,se  she  bad  once 

and  she  silently 
cw  Chata  nearer 
y   *'  1  never  have 
Jr  Icautiful  Uer- 
\  to  be  shut  away 
unship,  from  love, 
among  a  score  ot 
3.    And  then  our 
ht  sec  it  through 
nth,  yet  I  am  sure 
jrlinda  to  enter  a 
o  liking  natural  or 

,  Bpeak  thus  freely 
the  characteristic 
any  of  the  younger 
re  too  well  bred  to 
among  the  servants 
vas  much  gossip  as 
i^at  relationship  she 
en,  who,  kind  and 
take  peculiar  pleas- 
ival  of  Doiia  Isabel 
ed  all  thoughts  into 

>a  to  be  allowed  to 
'  lady,  but  had  been 
,nd  of  Dofia  Carmen 
ain<'  restlessly  about 
,tion  for  her  anxious 
■^pain  that  tormented 
icd  her  return  if  he 
,  in  a  mad  freak  the 
-t  there  were  circum- 
jot  oifending  one  so 
was  of  course  under 
[d  it  be  to-morrow? 
Mders  and  said  some- 
nd  thought  him  good 
*  »dness  and  his  years, 


—  the  years  that  had  not  brought  in  their  train  any  addi- 
tional attractiveness  to  his  person,  —  that  Doiia  Carnum 
loved  him.  Was  it  as  she  had  heard,  that  his  riches  had 
beguiled  one  already  passing  ricli? 

Since  she  had  left  Kl  Toro,  Chata  had  become  a  woman. 
Change  of  scene  had  given  impetus  to  the  somewhat  re- 
tarded development  of  her  physique,  and  mental  anxiety 
had  stimulated  her  mind  and  given  to  it  an  intuitive  ap- 
preciation of  causes  and  events  that  is  generally  gained 
by  innocent  and  unsuspicious  natures,  such  as  hers,  only 
after  long  experience. 

Thus  she  comprehended  fully,  as  she  would  not  have 
done  a  few  months  before,  the  gravity  of  the  step  Chinita 
had  taken  in  separating  herself  from  Dona  Isabel.  Kuiz 
had  not  spared  the  woman  he  loved  in  the  few  brief  sen- 
tences he  had  passionately  uttered  :  love  was  with  him  but 
a  devouring  flame,  ready  to  destroy  its  object  either  in  the 
struggle  of  attainment  or  in  the  fury  of  baflled  desire. 
Chata  blushed  even  in  secret  when  she  remembered  the 
aspersions  he  had  cast  upon  the  friend  of  her  childhood. 
She  knew  the  innate  purity  of  the  giiTs  mind,  though  it 
had  been  developed  amid  surroundings  which  might  well 
have  tainted  it.  She  knew  her  pride  :  even  when  she  was 
but  the  barefoot  foster-child  of  Pedro  the  gatekeeper, 
Chinita  had  held  Pepd  and  his  mates  as  far  apart  from  her 
as  the  dogs  that  followed  them  or  the  mules  they  tended. 
Dogs  and  mules  she  liked  well  and  made  serve  her  needs, 
as  also  she  did  the  lads.  Chata  did  not  doubt  that  Pepo 
now  as  ever  had  proved  himself  the  slave  of  Chinita's  will. 
Perhaps  it  was  to  Tres  ilermanos  she  iiad  gone.  Although 
knowing  as  she  did  the  fascination  that  Ramirez  had 
always  exerted  over  the  girl's  mind,  she  could  not  but  fear 
J  that  led  not  by  reckless  passion  but  by  a  spirit  of  devo- 
tion at  which  Ruiz  had  sneered,  yet  in  which  Chata  her- 
self recognized  the  peculiar  strength  and  determination 
of  Chinita's  character,  the  impulsive  creature  might  actu- 
ally have  sought  an  entrance  to  the  camp  to  urge  the  plan 
that  she  conceived  was  to  further  the  glory  of  the  Church 
and  the  interest  of  him  whom  she  had  made  the  hero  of 
her  imagination.  That  Ashley  Ward  was  in  any  way 
concerned  in  the  disappearance  of  Chinita,  either  as  a 
principal  or  an  accessory,  Chata  indignantly  refused  to  be- 


Il*l  'i 


410 


CI/ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


i  i; 


\'\\ 


m 


IP 
%\ 


!     ! 


m 


licvc.     Ilcr  heart  boat  suffocatingly  as  she  thought  of  him. 
No,  no !  ho  was  not  a  man  to  entice  a  girl  to  her  ruin. 

And  as  days  went  by  news  reached  Chata  that  strength- 
ened this  conviction.  The  American  was  engaged  in 
deeds  of  a  far  different  character.  In  his  way  he  was 
beginning  to  fill  the  minds  and  occupy  the  conversation 
of  people  as  much  as  Ramirez  had  ever  done.  They  gave 
him  a  new  name,  as  those  at  the  hacienda  had  done  ;  but 
Conservatives  and  Liberals  alike  wondered  at  and  exagger- 
ated his  exploits,  until  Ashley  had  won  a  reputation  for 
reckless  bravado  quite  iorcign  to  his  true  character, — 
which  was  exhibiting  itself  in  the  most  careful  and  nice 
calculations  of  chances,  the  whole  tending  toward  the 
fulfilment  of  the  task  to  which  he  had  dedicated  himself; 
namel}',  the  downfall  of  the  unpunished  and  unrepentant 
murderer  of  John  Ashle}'. 

Chata  recognized  this,  and  was  filled  with  emotions  per- 
haps more  conflicting,  more  strange,  than  had  ever  be- 
fore met  in  the  breast  of  so  young  a  girl.  They  held  her 
thoughts  by  day  and  night.  Oh  that  she  had  never  left 
Ramirez  !  Oh  that  she  could  speak  but  for  a  few  moments 
with  Ashley !  But  she  was  powerless ;  and  meanwhile 
what  was  the  fate  of  Chinita?  What  that  impending  over 
the  man  she  was  in  duty  bound  to  warn,  —  to  love  if  it 
were  possible  ? 

But  before  these  reflections  had  reached  this  point,  an 
employment  that  prevented  them  from  becoming  utterly 
overwhelming  was  afforded  her.  Chata  no  longer  wandered 
aimlessly  about  the  house,  but  kept  the  strict  seclusion  of 
Dona  Isabel's  apartment,  to  which  she  had  been  hastily 
summoned  one  night  by  Dona  Carmen  herself. 

"  My  mother  talks  so  strangely,"  she  had  said  in  a  low 
voice,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  white  and  frightened  face. 
"  No,  I  cannot  comprehend  what  she  says ;  but  I  cannot 
have  the  servants  about  her.  They  might  imagine  un- 
speakable things.  Oh,  what  tales  and  rumors  they  might 
set  afloat !  No,  no !  I  will  not  have  them  here,  with  their 
suspicions  and  evil  thoughts.  But  you,  —  you  are  inno- 
cent and  frank  ;  you  will  not  torture  into  strange  meanings 
the  mutterings  of  a  diseased  imagination." 

"  No,  no !  "  answered  Chata,  reassuringly^.  *'  It  was  the 
same  with  Dona  Feliz.   Sometimes  she  talked  so  strangely, 


:!i|;iil" 


CI/ATA   AND  CniNITA. 


411 


80  sadly,  ono  was  forced  to  weep,  and  tlien  again  \a 
laugli ;  yes,  in  all  my  trouble  I  laughed,  liut  I  will  not 
now,  Dofia  Carmen  ;  only  let  mo  bo  useful.  Dofla  Isabel 
did  not  seem  to  like  me  when  she  was  at  the  hacienda,  so 
I  kept  as  much  as  possible  out  of  her  sight.  Slio  said  my 
face  was  not  such  as  Don  Kafaol's  daugliter  should  have  ; 
and  after  all,"  she  added  sadly,  *'  she  was  riglit." 

What  passed  in  that  sick  chamber  tlirough  those  long 
days  and  nights  Dofia  Carnjon  and  Cliata  never  repeated, 
even  to  each  other.  Perhaps  they  could  not,  all  was  so 
disconnected,  so  improbable,  and  through  all  her  delirium 
the  patient  held  so  great  a  restraint  over  her  utterances. 
Sometimes  ono  escaped  her  that  startled  and  commanded 
attention ;  but  tho  next  invariably  contradicted  it,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  form  a  connected  tlieory  even  had  Chata 
tried.  But  that  great  sorrows,  events  to  cause  constant 
and  secret  caro  and  remorse,  had  taken  place  in  the  life 
of  Dona  Isabel,  and  that  they  concerned  Chinita  closely, 
was  abundantly  clear.  What  pathetic  appeals,  what  wild 
ravings,  in  which  the  names  of  those  who  had  lived  in 
the  past,  —  of  her  husband,  her  mother,  her  brother,  and 
of  Ilerlinda,  —  were  constantly  mingled  with  those  of 
the  American  and  Chinita.  And  friends  or  servants  fol- 
lowed each  other  in  endless  yet  confusing  succession ; 
yet  of  them  all  the  name  of  Chinita  was  the  most  frequent. 
The  present  grief  combined  all  others  ;  in  Chinita  seemed 
centred  the  agonies  and  loves  of  her  lifetime. 

Chata  listened  with  a  sort  of  env}'.  Ah,  if  it  had  been 
given  to  her  to  raise  such  a  passion  of  feeling !  She  found 
herself  from  day  to  day  leaning  with  infinite  tenderness  over 
this  woman,  who  had  seemed  so  cold,  but  whose  heart  was 
now  revealed  as  a  very  volcano  of  repressed  and  seething 
emotions.  She  was  grateful  and  decpl}'^  touched  that  Dofia 
Isnbel  in  her  delirium  cliing  to  her  fondly,  calling  her 
"  Mother,"  or  '*  Quina,"  which  Dofia  Carmen  told  her  was 
the  name  of  a  cousin  she  had  dearly  loved.  Even  after  she 
had  recognized  her  when  the  delirium  was  past  as  tho 
daughter  of  Don  Rafael,  she  seemed  pleased  to  have  her 
there  ;  though  she  said  querulously,  "  It  is  strange  you  arc 
only  a  little  country  girl.  But  Feliz  has  good  blood  in  her ; 
it  has  been  transmitted  to  you,  —  there  is  nothing  of  Kita, 
nothing  of  Rafael  himself," 


412 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


ti'   ^: 


ftV'    .  ! 


After  that  she  made  no  further  comment ;  but  her  eyes 
often  followed  the  movements  of  Chata  with  a  puzzled  ex- 
pression painful  to  see.  One  day  after  she  had  become 
convalescent,  Dona  Carmen  spoke  of  this.  *'  Whom  does 
she  remind  you  of?  "  she  asked  lightly. 

"  I  cannot  tell ;  I  do  not  know,"  Dona  Isabel  answered 
wearily.  "Perhaps  it  is  of  Chinita.  Oh!  I  can  think  of 
nothing  but  Chinita.  Are  they  still  looking  for  her,  as  I 
have  prayed,  —  as  I  have  commanded?" 

"  Mother,"  said  Doiia  Carmen,  solemnly,  "  who  is  Chi- 
nita ?    Why  should  you  care  so  much  ?  " 

The  face  of  Doiia  Isabel  grew  rigid.  "  Shall  1  tell  you 
what  you  have  uttered  in  your  delirium?  "  continued  Doiia 
Carmen,  looking  fixedly  into  her  mother's  ej'es.  "  Shall  I 
ask  you  if  you  spoke  the  truth,  or  if  what  I  have  gathered 
—  here  a  word,  there  a  word  —  is  but  a  dreadful  fancy  ? 
Mother,  Mother !  if  it  is  the  truth,  no  wonder  that  the  fate 
of  this  girl  is  on  your  soul !     No  wonder  Herlinda  —  " 

She  paused  affrighted.  In  her  excitement  she  had  said 
far  more  than  she  had  intended.  What  if  her  mother  in  her 
delicate  condition  should  sink  beneath  this  cruel  attack,  — 
should  faint,  should  die?  Carmen  threw  herself  down 
beside  the  couch  with  a  prayer  for  forgiveness. 

Dona  Isabel  in  the  first  surprise  had  clasped  her  hands 
over  her  heart.  Slowly  the  pale  hue  of  life  returned  to 
her  face.  "Carmen,"  she  whispered  faintly,  "speak! 
speak !  After  all  these  years,  accusation  —  even  from  my 
own  child  —  is  more  bearable  than  silence.  O  my  God,  I 
meant  well !  — it  was  for  Herlinda's  sake.  Yet  what  re- 
morse, what  agony  I  have  suffered !  " 

The  two  women  sank  into  each  other's  arms;  There 
had  ever  been  a  barrier  of  reserve  between  them,  —  in  a 
moment  it  was  swept  away.  Dona  Isabel  poured  out  her 
heart.  It  was  Carmen  who  withheld  what  might,  have  been 
revealed  ;  a  conviction  seized  her  that  there  was  much  in 
this  strange  family  mystery  j^et  undeclared,  and  of  which 
Doiia  Isabel  knew  nothing ;  and  that  her  mother's  mind 
was  in  no  condition  to  be  perplexed  by  further  doubts 
and  complications.  She  left  the  room  and  went  to  her 
husband. 

"  Chulita  my  beautifiil  one,**  he  said  anxiously,  as  she 
was  about  to  leave  him  an  hour  later,  "  thou  wilt  do  noth- 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


413 


nt;  but  her  eyes 
ith  a  puzzled  ex- 
she  had  become 
u  Whom  does 

I  Isabel  answered 
I !  I  can  think  of 
dng  for  her,  as  I 

aly,  "who is  Chi- 

"  Shall  1  tell  you 
"  continued  Doiia 
•'seyes.    "  Shall  I 
at  I  have  gathered 
a  dreadful  fancy? 
onder  that  the  fate 
r  Herlinda  —  " 
ament  she  had  said 
if  her  mother  in  her 
his  cruel  attack,  — 
irew  herself  down 
veness. 

I  clasped  her  hands 
of  life  returned  to 
faintly,  "speak I 
,n__even  from  my 
ce.  O  my  God,  I 
,ke.     Yet  what  re- 

Ler's  arms.  There 
Eween  them,  —  in  a 
kbel  poured  out  her 
fat  might,  have  been 
t  there  was  much  in 
flared,  and  of  which 
Iher  mother's  mind 
by  further  doubts 
and  went  to  her 

|id  anxiously,  as  she 
thou  wilt  do  noth- 


ing rash?  Yet  I  will  not  forbid  thee.  In  truth,  but  that 
rcbberies  and  abductions  are  so  common  upon  the  roads, 
I  would  go  with  thee  myself." 

"  Not  for  the  world !  "  exclaimed  Dona  Carmen  in  gen- 
uine consternation.  "  They  would  seize  thee  and  carry 
thee  into  the  mountains.  But  as  for  me,  —  I  promise  thee 
no  robber  shall  think  me  worth  a  second  thought.  But 
hold  thee  ready,  —  the  desire  may  come  to  her  at  a  mo- 
ment's thought,  and  I  would  not  leave  thee  without  warn- 
ing ;  1  would  not  have  thee  unprepared." 


XLIII. 


Im 


i   III 


"With  the  same  unreasoning  fiir}^  with  which  he  had  de- 
nounced Ramirez  at  the  banquet,  lluiz  had  returned  to 
the  camp  of  Gonzales ;  and  through  a  cleverly  managed 
correspondence  with  Ramirez  —  in  which  however  he 
dared  not  mention  the  name  of  Chinita,  lest  he  should 
awaken  in  the  astute  mind  of  the  General  a  suspicion  that 
his  godson  conjectured  the  deception  wh^ch  was  to  be 
played  upon  him  —  Ruiz  gradually  drew  from  the  chief 
data  through  which  to  propose  such  movements  to  Gon- 
zales as  procured  for  him  as  a  strategist  the  respect  and 
admiration  of  that  commander,  which  well  might  have 
satistled  a  laudable  ambition. 

Meanwhile  Ramirez  himself,  though  surroundec.  by  no 
despicable  force,  which  was  dail}-  augmented  by  accessions 
from  the  mountains  or  from  the  ranks  of  less  popular 
leaders  of  either  party,  was  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
oppressed  by  a  vague  melancholy,  —  which,  with  some  im- 
patience, he  ascribed  to  the  forced  separation  from  the 
child  whose  purity  and  innocence  had  so  irresistibly  at- 
tracted him.  There  were  times  when  he  thought  with 
what  horror  such  a  record  as  his  would  be  viewed  b}'  that 
gentle  and  upright  nature ;  and  a  positive  dread  came 
upon  him  of  her  ever  knowing  the  one  incident  that  had 
been  so  vividly  recalled  to  him  by  the  appearance  of  the 
avenger  upon  the  grave  of  the  man  he  had  murdered  years 
before,  —  one  crime  among  many  he  had  almost  forgotten. 
lie  said  to  himself  that  an  evil  spell  had  been  upon  him 
ever  since  the  day  when  he  had  foolishly  thrown  away  the 
charm  the  elf-like  child  had  given  him.  His  emissaries 
had  brought  him  word  time  and  again  of  the  miscarriage 
of  his  best-laid  plans.     Who  had  betrayed  them? 

Ramirez  knew  too  well  who  had  frustrated  them.  The 
American  who  had  escaped  his  knife  ut  the  cemetery 
seemed  ubiquitous  since  obtaining  the  commission  which 
authorized  him  to  wage  war  against  his  cousin's  murderer. 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


415 


Not  content  with  defending  El  Toro  with  unexampled 
bravery,  he  appeared  at  every  point  where  an  advantage 
was  to  be  gained.  "  Carrhi!"  Ramirez  said  to  himself, 
"I  shall  be  forced  to  give  that  fellow  a  thrust  of  my 
dagger  in  secret,  since  he  appears  to  be  impervious  to  ball 
and  proof  against  the  chances  of  open  warfare.  He  or  I 
must  fall.  There's  not  room  in  all  Mexico  for  him  and 
me." 

Whether  there  was  room  or  not,  it  seemed  destined  that 
they  should  remain  in  it  together,  though  not  without  con- 
stant collision.  Gonzales  became  to  the  mind  of  Ramirez 
far  less  formidable  than  this  yellow-haired  foreigner,  who 
with  a  mere  handful  of  followers  so  constantly  harassed 
and  baffled  him.  Like  most  men  of  his  class,  the  moun- 
tain chieftain  was  intensely  superstitious,  and  one  night 
in  the  moonlight  he  saw,  or  fancied  he  saw,  a  female  form 
ghde  before  him  into  the  chapparal.  He  caught  but  a 
glimpse  of  the  face,  but  it  had  reminded  him  of  Herlinda, 
for  whom  he  had  done  the  deed  that,  so  late,  seemed  to 
have  brought  upon  him  a  threatened  retribution.  As  he 
searched  the  bushes  for  the  woman,  whom  he  could  not 
discover,  he  shuddered  as  he  remembered  the  expression 
of  her  eyes,  —  as  of  a  wronged  creature  who  had  loved 
and  now  hated.  He  had  seen  such  an  expression  in  a 
woman's  eyes  before.  More  than  ever  after  this  strange 
occurrence  the  thought  of  Ashley  Ward  tormented  him ; 
the  young  man's  face  haunted  him  ;  and  curiously  enough 
other  faces  also  began  to  peer  upon  him,  —  faces  of  women 
he  had  wronged,  of  men  who  with  good  cause  bore  him 
deadly  hatred,  or  of  others  whom,  like  the  American,  or 
the  gatekeeper,  he  had  murdered. 

Ramirez  grew  strangely  taciturn  and  nervous.  Not  even 
the  letters  of  Ruiz  aroused  him.  In  his  heart  he  dis- 
trusted his  godson,  as  he  did  all  men  but  Reyes,  all  women 
but  Chata.  Had  she  been  near,  he  thought,  he  would 
have  talked  to  her  and  cast  off  his  fancies ;  but  in  her 
absence  the}'^  grew  upon  him.  One  day  he  could  have 
sworn  he  saw  clearly  not  only  the  face  but  the  figure  of 
Pedro  CJomcz ;  and  upon  another,  that  of  the  woman  ho 
had  lovt^  I  long  years  before.  Bah !  they  were  fantasies. 
He  wondered  whether  he  too  would  be  seized  with  the 
fever,  which  was  still  raging  at  Tres  Hermanos,  ami  of 


f  r 


m  i 

1! 

416 


CIIATA  AND  CHINITA. 


which  thej'  said  its  lady  was  dying  at  her  daughter's 
house  in  Guanapila.  Was  this  weakness  of  nerve  the 
presage  of  what  was  to  come? 

At  last  battle  was  joined  with  Gonzales  as  had  been 
planned.  The  day  turned  in  favor  of  Ramirez  ;  even  the 
gallant  assistance  of  Ward  availed  little  against  the  des- 
perate courage  of  the  mountain  troops.  The  genius  and 
valor  of  their  leader  were  manifested  with  a  vigor  that 
declared  they  had  been  but  shaken,  not  broken.  Until 
the  arrival  of  Ward  it  had  even  appeared  that  the  forces 
actually  under  the  command  of  Ramirez  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  efFect  a  victory;  but  Ward's  appearance 
speedily  turned  the  tide  in  favor  of  Gonzales,  and  with 
some  impatience  Ramirez  gave  the  signal  that  was  to 
hasten  the  promised  action  of  Ruiz. 

But  at  the  critical  moment  the  expected  ally  failed  him. 
With  a  vindictive  fury  which  was  demoniacal  in  its  ex- 
hibition, Ruiz  threw  himself  against  his  old  commander. 
The  carnage  was  terrible  in  that  part  of  the  field ;  and 
when  the  fray  was  ended,  the  demoralization  of  Ramirez's 
troops  was  complete,  —  yet  he  himself  had  escaped. 

That  such  should  be  the  case  seemed  to  Ashlc}'  Ward 
incredible,  as  later  he  walked  over  the  field  seeking 
among  the  slain  the  man  against  whom  he  had  begun  a 
private  warfare,  which  to  his  own  surprise  had,  with 
further  investigation  of  the  principles  involved,  rapidly 
attained  in  his  mind  the  dignity'  of  a  struggle  for  liberty 
that  even  dwarfed  the  incentive  of  personal  revenge,  al- 
though it  was  impossible  that  this  should  be  wholly  for- 
gotten or  ignored. 

Gonzales  marched  into  El  Toro  amid  the  clanging  of 
bells  and  shouts  of  rejoicing  j  for  though  that  was  a  con- 
vent town,  the  people  of  the  lower  class  were  mad  Juaris- 
tas^  who  did  good  service  under  Ward  when  troops  were 
scarce.  The  triumph  had  however  not  been  gained  with- 
out much  loss  upon  the  Liberal  side ;  and  among  the 
missing  was  the  j'oung  officer  who  in  the  ej'es  of  Gonzales 
—  and  to  the  astonishment  of  Ward — had  so  ably  vindi- 
cated his  character  as  a  stanch  adherent  in  the  day  of 
battle.     Pepe  too,  the  right-hand  man  of  Ward,  was  gone. 

In  very  truth,  at  the  last  moment  the  most  important 
and  useful  calculation  of  Ruiz  had  failed.     He  saw  Ra- 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


417 


mirez,  by  his  orders,  'surrounded  by  desperate  men ;  it 
seemed  inevitable  that  he  must  be  stricken  down,  —  when 
a  party  led  by  Re^'es  broke  through  to  his  assistance,  and 
in  the  fury  of  the  onslaught  Ruiz  himself  was  swept  from 
his  horse  and  hurried  away,  and  to  his  consternation  found 
himself  a  prisoner  dragged  onward  in  the  irresistible 
impetus  of  flight. 

They  were  miles  distant  from  the  scene  of  battle  when 
the  fugitives  ut  last  paused  ;  and  hero  for  the  first  time 
Ramirez  knew  of  the  special  prisoner  that  had  been 
made.  When  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  3'outh,  a  frown  which 
darkened  as  with  a  palpable  cloud  his  already  rigid  and 
pitiless  face,  overspread  the  countenance  of  Ramire^  and 
made  it  absolutely  terrible.  Even  to  fallen  angels  the 
crime  of  ingratitude  may  seem  the  one  damnable  otfence. 
In  Ruiz,  remembering  the  love  and  favor  he  had  shown 
him,  Ramirez  held  it  so  to  be.  This  insignificant  boy 
had  compassed  his  ruin  ;  his  life  seemed  too  poor  a  forfeit 
to  condone  the  oflTence.  The  baffled,  desperate,  outraged 
chieftain  cursed  the  fate  which  had  cast  the  treacherous 
favorite  into  his  power.  But  the  terrible  blackness  of  his 
face  still  deepened,  as  he  gazed. 

A  lasso  had  been  drawn  tightly  around  the  waist  of 
Ruiz.  His  face  was  cut  and  bleeding ;  the  gold  lace  and 
epaulettes  had  been  torn  from  his  coat;  his  uncovered 
hair  was  filled  with  dust,  and  his  face  reeking  with  sweat. 
He  raised  his  bloodshot  e^'es  appealingly.  He  knew  the 
man  before  him, — the  man,  worthless  and  unscrupulous 
though  he  was,  who  had  been  kind  to  him,  whom  he  had 
betrayed,  and  whose  death  he  had  attempted  to  compass. 
Ruiz  did  not  attempt  to  speak,  but  fell  on  his  knees  and 
raised  his  bound  hands.  Ramirez  gazed  at  him  a  moment 
in  silence,  then  without  the  quiver  of  a  muscle  in  his 
impassive  face  uttered  the  sentence,  "  Let  him  be  shot 
at  once ! " 

Shot  at  once,  —  from  that  terrible  mandate  there  was 
no  appeal.  There  was  not  one  there  to  utter  a  word  in  the 
traitor's  behalf,  but  only  a  moan  from  the  dust  to  which 
he  had  sunk.  Reyes  was  not  there ;  probably  the  result 
would  have  been  the  same  had  he  been.  The  soldiers 
raised  the  young  officer  and  stood  him  against  a  tree. 

At  the  last  moment  that  strange  indifference  to  death, 

27 


418 


Cl/ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


'U'.    I 


.'  '■' 


>■  'w:  , 


which  among  his  countrymen  so  often  counterfeits  cour- 
age, caused  liuiz  to  straighten  his  (igure  and  raise  liis 
Jicad  ;  and  in  the  insolence  of  despair  he  said  to  Ramirez, 
with  a  glance  of  malignant  contempt,  "Had  you  fallen 
into  my  hands  I  would  have  shot  you  with  my  own  pistol 
an  hour  ago." 

Perhaps  the  still  proud  youth  hoped  by  this  speech  to 
escape  the  ignominy  of  execution  b}'  a  file  of  common 
soldiers.  If  so  he  was  mistaken.  Ramirez  gave  the  sig- 
nal ;  the  balls  whizzed  through  the  air  and  found  their 
way  to  their  destined  aim.  Ruiz  fell  without  a  groan. 
Ramirez  himself,  though  still  with  an  impassive  face,  to 
the  astonishment  of  all  stooped  and  stretched  the  limba 
and  crossed  the  hands  of  the  young  man  upon  his  breast. 
There  was  a  spot  of  blood  upon  the  face,  and  the  chief 
wi[)ed  it  away  as  tenderly  as  a  mother  might  lave  the  face 
of  her  dead  infant ;  and  yet  but  a  few  moments  before  ho 
had  commanded  this  youth  to  a  violent  death,  and  accord- 
ing to  the  creed  h(  'eld,  his  soul  to  purgatory  without 
benefit  of  clergy. 

Forgetting  to  give  the  expected  order  for  the  execu- 
tion of  the  other  prisoners,  Ramirez  turned  awa}'.  In 
another  moment  he  had  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
party  and  continued  the  retreat.  "  At  the  next  halt  it  can 
be  done  as  well,"  remarked  the  lieutenant,  philosophically. 
''There  are  plent}'  of  horses ;  bind  the  prisoners  well  and 
bring  them  along." 

And  thus  for  that  day  at  least  Pepe  Ortiz  among  others 
knew  he  had  escaped  a  fate  of  which  the  very  idea  —  with 
the  remembrance  of  Ruiz  to  intensify  its  horror — made 
his  tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth  and  his  knees 
quiver  with  terror.  Yet  the  day  came  when  ho,  like  the 
traitor  whose  end  he  had  witnessed,  strai«fhtened  himself 
against  a  tree,  and  with  apparent  coolness  awaited  the 
mandate  of  Ramirez  that  was  to  consign  him  to  eternity ; 
naught  but  a  miracle  it  seemed  could  save  him.  He 
onl}'^  begged  a  cigarette  of  a  soldier,  remarking  that  they 
might  be  scarce  where  he  was  going,  —  secretly'  hoping 
thus  to  hide  the  quiver  of  the  lips  which  belied  the  bra- 
vado of  his  words. 

Shortly  after  this  time,  Chata  to  her  surprise  received 
b}'  the  hand  of  an  Indian  fruitseller  a  brief  note  from 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


419 


counterfeits  cour- 
urc  and  raise  Ins 
e  said  to  Uamircz, 
"Had  you  fallen 
witli  my  own  pistol 

\  by  tliis  speecli  to 

a  iile  of  common 

iiirez  gave  the  sig- 

lir  and  found  tlieit 

1  witliout  a  groan. 

impassive  face,  to 

stretched  the  limbs 

lan  upon  his  breast. 

face,  and  the  chief 

'  might  lave  the  face 

\  moments  before  ho 

t  death,  and  accord- 

9  purgatory  without 

^rcler  for  the  execu- 
iZ  turned  away.  In 
If  at  the  head  of  the 
t  the  next  halt  it  can 
lant,  philosophically, 
lie  prisoners  well  and 

6  Ortiz  among  others 
the  very  idea  —  with 
fV  its  horror— made 
mouth  and  his  knees 
me  when  he,  like  the 
,  straightened  himself 
coolness  awaited  the 
isign  him  to  eternity  ; 
,ould   save  him.     He 
remarking  that  they 
ncr,— secretly  hoping 
w"hich  belied  the  bra- 

her  surprise  received 
cr  a  brief  note  from 


Ramirez.  At  the  first  reading  its  contents  seemed  hard 
unci  indifferent.  He  spoke  with  an  ahnost  savage  irony  of 
those  who  were  driv.ng  him  back  like  a  wolf  to  iiis  moun- 
tain lairs.  "  I  know  of  fastnesses,  if  I  care  to  seek  them, 
whore  no  foot  but  mine  has  ever  trod,  and  wliere  tliis  ac- 
cursed American  who  is  hunting  me  down  like  i'ate  coukl 
never  hope  to  follow  me,"  he  wrote.  "  lint  it  shall  never 
he  said  that  Ramirez  lied  from  man  or  spirit,  were  it 
Satan  himself.  After  all,  a  man  may  not  escape  from 
him  who  is  destined  to  bring  death  to  him.  Ruiz  was 
marked  to  die  by  me.  I  loved  him,  yet  his  fate  is 
accomplished." 

Chata  shuddered.  It  seemed  incredible  that  save  by 
accident  such  a  thing  could  happen,  so  sacred  is  esteemed 
by  Mexicans  the  tie  between  sponsor  and  godchild ;  and 
the  tone  of  the  letter  impressed  her  as  that  of  a  nesperate 
man  who  was  ready  for  unheard-of  deeds.  Had  Ramirez 
in  truth  deliberately  destroyed  the  man  whom  for  years  he 
hu'^  associated  in  his  every  hope  and  plan,  to  whom  he 
had  promised  the  hand  of  his  child?  Deep  indeed  must 
have  been  the  villany  that  had  merited  such  an  end.  The 
sigh  of  relief  which  Chata  involuntarily  breathed,  that  she 
was  free  from  the  possible  accomplishment  of  the  destiny 
that  had  been  marked  out  for  her,  was  perhaps  as  sympa- 
thetic as  any  caused  by  the  death  of  Fernando  Ruiz. 

A  reperusal  of  the  letter  gave  to  Chata's  mind  an  impres- 
sicm  of  the  longing,  the  stinging  regret,  the  remorse  which 
the  words  had  been  designed  to  conceal  rather  than  dis- 
l)lay.  The  pride,  the  fierceness,  the  unconquerable  will  of 
tlie  writer  pervaded  them  ;  yet  the  wail  of  a  lost  spirit  cry- 
ing for  the  one  good  that  it  had  known,  and  now  believed 
forfeited  forever,  seemed  to  echo  through  her  soul.  '•  He 
loves  me,'  she  thought  remorsefully.  "He  believes  him- 
self (loomed  to  die,  and  that  he  will  see  me  no  more. 
Oil !  if  it  were  possible  I  would  go  to  him.  Oh,  if  I  dared 
toll  Dona  Isabel !  —  but  no,  she  would  keep  me  from  him  ; 
she  would  mock  m^'  pain  with  the  cry  that  this  was  but  the 
just  recompense  of  the  evil  he  had  brought  upon  her  long 
ago.  She  believes  her  brother  dead  ;  why  torture  her  by 
telHng  her  my  miserable  history?  " 

Chata  showed  the  letter  to  Dona  Carmen,  and  she  it  was 
who  called  the  girl's  attention  to  some  chance  mention  of 


14 


I  " 


in' 


M: 


firi'""' 


■"■■ I ■ 


420 


CI/ATA  AND  CIIINirA. 


the  name  of  the  i  'ace  where  Ramirez  said  he  might  be 
able  to  remain  some  clays,  oven  if  closely  pressed,  for  the 
poople  there  were  secretly  sworn  to  his  sui)[)ort.  Day 
after  day  wild  rumors  Hew  through  the  city  of  the  pursuit 
of  Ramirez,  his  capture,  his  death,  only  to  be  contradicted 
upon  the  next.  They  did  not  seriously  agitate  Chata,  for 
not  once  was  the  name  of  the  place  he  called  his  strong- 
hold mentioned. 

One  night  the  anxious  girl  had  a  vivid  dream.  She 
dreamed  she  saw  t^he  chieftain  and  Chinita  lying  dead,  — 
the  one  on  one  side  of  a  village  street,  the  other  on  the 
opposite.  The  people  were  rushing  wildly  about  scream- 
ing and  gesticulating  madl3%  while  Dona  Isabel,  followed 
by  women  clothed  in  black  like  herself,  was  in  frenzy 
passing  from  one  to  the  other,  uttering  that  low  wail  that 
seems  the  very  key-note  of  woe. 

Chata  woke  with  a  stifled  scream.  The  wind  was  blow- 
ing shrilly  through  the  trees  and  seemed  to  bring  to  her 
a  voice,  which  said,  "Wake!  oh  wake,  Chata !  1  have 
dreamed  of  her."  The  voice  sounded  close  to  her  ear. 
It  came  from  Dona  Isabel,  who  leaning  over  the  dreamer's 
bed  was  repeating  again  and  again  the  words,  "  I  shall 
find  her.     I  have  dreamed  of  her." 

Chata  raised  herself  upon  the  pillows  and  caught  the 
lady's  wasted  hand.  "  Yes,  yes,"  continued  Dofia  Isabel, 
' '  I  have  dreamed  of  Chinita  and  of  another,  —  one  I  loved 
long  years  ago.  I  saw  them  together  in  Las  Parras.  It 
is  a  revelation !  Whv  have  I  not  thought  of  it  before  ? 
No  other  place  would  be  so  fitting.  I  shall  find  her.  I 
am  going  now,  now  1  My  carriage,  ray  horses,  my  men 
must  be  here ;  I  will  call  them.  Tell  my  daughter  when 
she  wakes ;  she  will  understand." 

Doiia  Isabel  turned  to  leave  the  room,  her  excitement 
supplementing  her  returning  strength  ;  but  Chata  detained 
her.  "  I  too  will  go,"  siie  cried.  "  Nothing  shall  prevent 
mo.  Doiia  Carmen  will  not  stop  us,  —  she  knows ;  she 
dare  not  forbid  me.  I  will  tell  her  now.  She  will  know 
what  is  best  for  us.     The  carriage  is  still  here,  but  —  " 

Chata  hastened  from  the  room  and  wakened  Dona  Car- 
men. "  Ah,"  said  the  daughter  to  herself,  "  the  thought  is 
come,  and  the  hour."  She  hastily  wrote  a  line  to  her  hus- 
band, who  was  absent  aii  a  hacienda  he  owned  near  the 


CIIATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


421 


said  be  migbfc  lie 
ly  pressed,  for  the 
[lis  support.     l^i\y 
jity  of  the  pursuit 
to  be  contradicted 
a<ntate  Chata,  for 
,  called  his  strong- 
vivid  dream.     She 
nita  lying  dead,  •- 
t,  the  other  on  the 
ildly  about  scream- 
fia  Isabel,  followed 
3elf,  was  in  frenzy 
^  that  low  wail  that 

The  wind  was  blow- 
raed  to  bring  to  her 
ake,  Chata!  I  bave 
;d  close  to  her  ear. 
2  over  the  dreamer  s 
the  words,  "  I  shall 

ows  and  caught  the 
iitinued  Dona  Isabel, 
lother,— onelloved 

n- in  Las  rarras.     It 

liought  of  it  before^ 

I  shall  find  her.     i 

ray  horses,  my  men 

my  daughter  when 

room,  ber  excitement 
I  •  but  Chata  detained 
Nothing  shall  prevent 
g  —she  knows;  she 
now.     She  will  know 
still  bere,  but  — 
a  wakened  Dona  tar- 
n-self, ''the  thought  IS 
rote  a  line  to  ber  bus- 
la  be  owned  near  the 


I 


city  ;  provided  herself  with  some  rolls  of  gold,  and  prcs- 
entl}'  entered  ber  mother's  room  dressed  in  a  somewhat 
soiled  cotton  gown,  and  witli  ber  reboso  over  ber  arm. 
Dona  Isabel,  who  in  the  excitement  of  ber  thoughts  was 
walking  hither  and  thither,  taking  up  and  putting  down 
articles  of  apparel,  looked  at  ber  daughter  blankly.  Why, 
she  thought,  bad  a  servant  come  at  that  hour? 

"See,  I  am  ready,"  cried  Carmen,  cheerfully.  "The 
diligence  is  to  leave  the  cit}'  for  the  first  time  to-day.  We 
shall  pass  through  the  country  quite  safely.  Who  would 
stop  such  poor  creatures  as  we  appear  to  be  ?  " 

Doiia  Isabel  looked  at  ber  daughter  gratefully,  —  ber 
mind  bad  been  running  belplessU'  upon  carriages  and 
mounted  escorts  and  all  the  parti i)bernalia  of  travel,  which 
require  so  much  time  and  thought  to  prepare.  "  True, 
true ! "  she  said,  "  that  will  be  best,  ob  much  the  best!  " 
In  feverish  haste  she  prepared  herself  for  the  journey  as 
Carmen  bad  done,  arraying  herself  in  a  plain  dark  dress 
and  reboso.  But  her  daughter  noticed  that  she  did  not 
think  of  the  expenses  of  the  journey,  and  herself  silently 
assumed  the  direction  of  the  little  party. 

Dona  Carmen  led  the  way  from  her  own  bouse  so  quietly 
that  only  the  doorkeeper  to  whom  she  gave  a  few  direc- 
tions, which  be  doubtless  in  bis  amazement  straightway 
forgot,  was  awakened.  The  three  ladies  were  so  humbly 
dressed  that  they  attracted  but  little  notice  at  the  diligence 
bouse,  and  being  hastily  motioned  to  the  poorest  seats  in 
the  coach  were  soon  on  their  way.  Covering  their  faces 
with  their  rebosos,  they  did  not  so  much  as  speak  to 
one  another. 

Some  ten  leagues  from  the  city  the  diligence  was  stopped 
by  a  half-dozen  armed  men.  The  male  passengers  were 
ordered  to  lie  down  upon  their  faces,  and  were  despoiled  of 
all  their  money  and  valuables.  Chata  to  ber  extreme  dis- 
gust—  which  fortunately  was  disguised  by  ber  alarm  —  re- 
ceived an  amicable  expression  of  approval  from  one  of  the 
bandits,  which  was  abruptly  cheeked  by  the  remark  of  the 
captain  that  this  was  no  time  for  fooling,  as  there  was  a 
rival  band  but  a  half-mile  farther  on.  Tlic  elder  women 
escaped  remark.  Happily,  the  other  band  did  not  present 
itself,  and  the  three  ladies  told  their  beads  in  devout 
thankfulness. 


II!     , 


m  •>' 


'*  : ! 


m- 


M 

wSt 

1 

1 

f 

i 

422 


CIlAl'A   AND   CiriNITA. 


That  night  the  travellers  remained  at  a  miserable  hut, 
which  served  as  an  inn,  feeling  a  certain  protection  in  the 
presence  of  an  aged  priest,  who  chanced  to  be  awaiting 
tliore  an  opportunity  to  proceed  upon  a  long-interrupted 
journo}' ;  and  upon  the  following  morning  he  formed  one 
of  the  travelling  party.  Beyond  bestowing  upon  them  his 
blessing,  he  said  nothing  to  them,  —  although  somewhat  to 
her  discomfort  Dona  Carmen  noticed  tluit  he  often  turned 
an  inciuiring  gaze  upon  them.  Early  in  the  afternoon  the 
diligence  stopped  at  a  miserable  village,  the  nearest  point 
at  which,  in  the  interrupted  arrangements  of  travel,  it  ap- 
proached Las  Parras ;  and  having  deposited  Dona  Isabel's 
party  and  tlie  priest,  diverged  toward  the  north. 

Doiia  Isabel  looked  around  her  hclplessl}',  saying,  "  It 
is  nearly  eight  leagues  to  Las  Parras.  I  have  often  been 
here,  —  I  know  the  road  well.  We  shall  never  reach 
there ! " 

"You  will  see.  Mother,  you  will  see,"  answered  Dona 
Carmen,  cheerfully ;  and  greatly  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  priest  and  the  women  who  stood  near,  she  drew  forth 
a  half-dozen  ounces  of  gold,  and  held  them  up.  "  See," 
she  said  in  her  clear  patrician  voice,  "you  are  good  people 
here ;  we  are  not  afraid  to  trust  you,"  —  her  quick  eye 
had  shown  her  there  was  not  an  able-bodied  man  in  the 
almost  ruinous  place.  "  We  are  not  so  poor  as  we  look, 
and  I  will  give  you  all  this  for  three,  four  — "  she 
glanced  at  the  priest  —  "  horses,  donkeys,  or  mules,  be 
they  ever  so  poor,  upon  which  we  can  go  our  way." 

The  women  laughed  stupidly,  and  looked  at  one  another 
and  then  at  the  gold.  Evidently  if  there  was  a  beast  of 
burden  in  the  village  it  was  securely  hidden,  and  though 
the  mone}'  tempted  them  the}'  were  afraid. 

'*  No,  no,"  said  one  at  length.  "Three  weeks  ago  the 
Senores  Liberales  drove  off  our  last  cow,  and  the  week 
after  the  Senores  Conservadores  slaughtered  the  turkeys, 
and  —  " 

"But  we  want  neither  cows  nor  turkeys,"  interrupted 
Carmen,  impatientl}'. 

"Quite  true;  but  the  Senorita  would  have  horses," 
answered  the  matron  imperturbably ;  "and  yesterday  the 
General  Ramirez  was  here  — " 

She  paused  as  though  it  were  unnecessary  to  say  more 


CflATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


423 


answered  Dona 


turkeys,"  interruptecl 

would  have  horses," 
;  "  and  yesterday  the 

Gcessary  to  say  more 


of  the  fato  of  tlieir  horses ;  and  Dona  Isabel,  starting  up 
impetuously,  hurriedly  questioned  the  assembled  gossips. 
Upon  the  subject  of  the  visit  of  Ramirez  the  villagers  were 
eloquent.  He  and  his  followers  had  reached  there  spent 
with  fatigue  and  long  fasting.  In  a  few  moments  the  place 
had  been  sacked  of  all  its  poor  provision  ;  there  had  not 
been  enough  to  give  one  poor  ration  to  the  half-dozen 
prisoners  who  were  with  them.  The}'  would  have  been 
shot  —  yes,  upon  the  very  spot  upon  which  their  graces  were 
standing—  but  for  the  i)rayersof  a  young  girl,  who  seemed 
to  be  the  lieuteriant's  wife ;  at  least  she  was  in  his  care,  — 
and  Ramirez  had  admitted  it  could  be  done  as  well  at  the 
next  halt.  She  herself  gave  a  drink  of  water  to  the  i)oor 
lads  for  the  love  of  God,  and  also  a  tortilla  to  one  among 
them  that  she  knew,  — poor  Pepo  Ortiz;  but  he  was  too 
weak  to  swallow  it,  and  had  given  it  to  another  less 
wretched  than  he. 

Chata  began  to  cr^'  softly,  while  Dona  Isabel  demanded 
a  description  of  the  young  girl  who  had  been  of  the  party. 
This  was  vague  enough ;  but  insullicient  as  it  was  it  made 
the  thought  of  further  delay  impossible, — and  the  elo- 
qucmce  and  gold  of  Dofia  Carmen,  to  which  was  added 
the  authority  of  the  priest,  presently'  induced  the  villagers 
to  produce  four  sorry  beasts,  upon  which  with  some  dilli- 
culty  the  party  were  secured,  for  no  saddles  or  panniers 
were  to  be  had.  It  was  almost  sunset  when,  following 
the  old  stage-road,  the  alreadv  wearied  travellers  set  out 
upon  their  long  and  possibly  perilous  ride. 

The  women  of  the  village  stood  for  a  long  time  with 
arms  akimbo,  looking  after  the  departing  travellers.  They 
had  divided  the  money  among  themselves,  — they  felt  rich 
and  could  afford  to  be  pitiful.  "  The  poor  Sefiora  has 
perhaps  lost  a  daugh^.er,"  said  one  —  "doubtless  the  fair 
girl  who  rode  with  the  lieutenant.  The  Holy  Mother 
protect  her,  for  the  man  was  in  two  minds  about  taking 
her  farther;  but  the  Sefior  General  swore  he  would  rtni 
his  sabre  through  him  if  he  cast  her  off  to  starve  in  such 


One  who  has  never  lived  in  my 
how  well  the   pigs  fatten  here 


a  hole.     To  starve,  eh  ! 
birthplace  cannot  know 
when  the  tunas  are  ripe." 

"Pshaw!  girls  are  fools,  and  not  worth  breaking  one's 
head  for,"  said  a  second,  whose  only  son  kept  her  rich, 


424 


CIIATA  AND  CIIINITA. 


when  well-laden  travellers  were  plenty.  "  Where  go  thoy 
now?  They  are  turning  toward  Las  Parras.  They  will 
miss  the  soldiers,  or  I  am  no  propliet." 

*'  As  a  prophet  one  may  give  thee  a  thousand  lashes, 
for  thou  art  ever  at  fault,"  laughed  a  third.  "  But  what 
matters  it  to  us  where  they  go?  The  road  is  open  to 
them  as  to  another.  They  should  not  go  far  wrong  with  a 
holy  little  priest  to  guide  them." 


XLTV. 


Upon  the  very  morning  that  Dofia  Isabel  and  her  com- 
panion left  Guanapila,  ncwa  which  might  perhaps  have 
changed  their  movements  had  tliey  heard  of  it  Ilew  Hko 
wildfire  over  the  city.  The  convents  throughout  Mexico 
had  been  simultaneously  opened  under  a  decree  of  the 
Liberal  government,  and  thousands  of  women  dedicated 
to  a  cloistered  life  were  thus  set  free  to  choose  anew 
their  destiny. 

Women  who  for  half  a  century,  perhaps,  had  lived 
apart  from  'To  and  love  were  returned  to  die  amid  the 
turmoils  of  a  home  where  love  for  them  had  ceased,  or  to 
pass  over  seas  to  seclusion  in  strange  lands.  Others,  in 
whom  voices  as  of  demons  were  but  just  then  ceasing  to 
tempt  the  memory  with  whispers  of  the  world  and  its 
alluring  joys,  saw  those  jo3's  actually  within  their  reach, 
and  with  dismay  sought  to  turn  their  eyes  awa}-^,  and 
prayed  for  strength  to  bravo  the  perils  of  the  deep,  and 
bear  the  homesickness  that  in  a  strange  country  would 
torment  the  soul  of  the  cloistered  nun  as  surely  as  if  she 
had  been  free  to  gaze  upon  the  valleys  and  mountains  of 
the  native  land  she  was  about  to  leave  forever.  Younger 
women,  those  to  whom  the  early  years  of  seclusion  had 
brought  but  disenchantment,  were  cruelly  roused  from  the 
stupor  of  habit  which  was  succeeding  pain  and  presaging 
content,  and  with  secret  regret  now  clung  to  the  vows 
they  fain  would  have  cast  aside  forever,  or  in  a  few  — 
a  very  few  —  cases  became  that  shunned  and  despised 
creature,  a  recreant  nun.  That  night  was  the  signal 
for  horror  and  tears  throughout  the  land.  A  wail  arose 
from  thousands  of  families,  about  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  their  consecrated  dear  ones,  and  then  to  know  them 
banished  forever.  Such  uprooting  of  ties,  such  griefs, 
such  domestic  woes,  arc  inevitable  in  all  great  national 
or  social  revolutions. 


426 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


M    ! 


w 


4** 


I 


■1 


!     1 


A  cei^ain  secrecy  had  been  observed  in  the  preparations 
for  and  execution  of  this  stroke  of  policy,  which  had  indeed 
been  threatened  and  openly  urged  as  a  political  necessit}', 
but  which  in  spite  of  the  exile  of  the  archbishops  and  t!io 
suppression  of  monasteries  had  been  thought — even  by 
those  who  acknowledged  its  probable  benefits  to  the  na- 
tion —  too  daring  a  measure  ever  to  be  carried  into  effect. 
It  had  been  thought  a  dream  of  the  arch-iconoclast  Juarez. 
]Jut  he  was  a  man  whose  dreams  were  apt  to  come  true  ; 
and  so  it  happened  upon  this  summer  night,  striking 
admiration  and  consternation  to  the  hearts  of  Liberals 
and  Conservatives  alike,  for  there  was  scarce  a  family 
of  either  party  throughout  Mexico  that  was  not  re)3re- 
sented  in  the  vast  religious  houses  which  abounded  in 
every  town.  Into  these,  overcoming  their  superstitious 
scruples,  the  populace  for  the  first  time  now  penetrated, 
and  learned  something  of  the  surroundings  and  conse- 
ouent  life  of  those  whom  for  centuries  they  had  supported 
^  1  saints,  dedicated  to  prayer  and  fasting  for  the  sins 
of  the  people.  To  their  disenchantment  and  surprise,  the 
peordo  found  many  of  these  gloomy  piles  filled  with  wide 
and  beautiful  chambers,  where  flowers  and  musical  instru- 
ments stood  side  by  side  with  the  altar  and  prie  Dicu^ 
and  parlors  and  refectories  which  opened  upon  gardens 
planted  with  the  choicest  and  most  luxuriant  shrubs  and 
flowers.  There  were  kitchens  too  where  the  choice  con- 
serves were  made  which  sometimes  found  a  wav  to  the 
outer  world,  and  where  doubtless  other  savory  dishes  were 
prepared  for  the  saintly  sisterhoods.  In  many  of  these 
retreats  each  nun  had  her  servant,  who  came  and  went 
at  her  command,  and  life  —  if  one  may  judge  from  the 
inanimate  things  and  the  low  whispers  that  sometimes 
reached  the  outer  air  —  was  made  a  soft  and  tensuous 
prelude  to  the  celestial  harmony  of  eternity. 

But  there  were  others  —  and  they  were  many  —  where 
the  utmost  austerity  pictured  by  the  devout  secular  mind 
was  practised ;  where  entered  the  poor  daughter,  or  she 
whom  the  priests  perceived  had  a  true  vocation,  or  a  deep 
and  agonizing  grief,  which  would  keep  her  faithful  to  the 
vows  of  poverty,  of  devotion,  and  obedience.  There  were 
none  of  those  amiable  daughters  of  rich  families  too  boun- 
tifully supplied  with  girls,  and  for  whom  a  dowry  to  the 


CHATA   AND  CIIINITA. 


^11 


Church  provided  a  safe  and  pleasant  home,  whence  they 
might  easily  glide  through  this  life  into  another,  —  where 
female  angels  would  never  be  esteemed  too  plentiful,  —  but 
where  were  only  the  poor,  the  sorrowful,  the  despairing ; 
and  the  well-filled  vaults  beneath  the  gloomy  chapels 
attested  how  rich  a  harvest  death  had  gleaned  in  those 
dreary  abodes  of  penance. 

For  many  da3's  the  officers  in  command  at  various  points 
had  been  in  possession  of  orders,  —  which  it  is  to  be  con- 
jectured were  in  many  cases  transmitted  to  the  abbesses 
of  the  principal  nunneries,  that  they  might  take  advantage 
of  this  notice  by  quietly  disbanding  their  sisterhoods  and 
sending  each  member  to  her  own  family,  or  in  communities 
to  the  tJnited  States  or  some  transatlantic  land.  But  the 
opportunity  for  moral  martyrdom  was  not  to  be  destroyed 
by  a  mere  concession  to  convenience,  and  not  in  a  single 
case  was  the  knowledge  acted  upon,  —  except  perhaps  that 
in  a  few  convents  u[)()n  the  dosiguatcd  night  the  nuns  re- 
frained from  repairing  to  their  dormitories,  but  pre[)aied  for 
exit,  awaited  the  mandate  pra3ing  in  the  lighted  chapels ; 
and  where  this  occurred,  the  mothers  superior  afterward 
acquired  reputations  of  special  sancity  for  the  supposed 
spirit  of  prophecy  which  had  moved  them.  But  in  the 
majority  of  these  establishments,  so  absolute  was  the  be- 
lief that  the  threatened  invasion  would  never  be  attempted, 
or  if  attempted  would  bring  upon  the  intruders  the  instant 
vengeance  of  the  Almight}',  that  no  change  was  made  in 
usual  habits,  and  an  outward  composure  was  maintained, 
which  we  may  believe  among  the  initiated  at  least  dis- 
guised many  a  beating  heart  fdled  with  genuine  horror, 
or  with  a  wild  guilty  anticipation  from  which  it  shrank 
in  remorse.  The  world  !  the  world !  With  a  turn  of  the 
lock,  with  scarce  more  than  a  step,  the}'^  would  be  in  it ; 
and  then  —  then  ! 

Guanapila  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  convent  city. 
The  few  small  retreats  within  it  were  vacated  with  so 
little  commotion  that,  except  in  the  houses  to  wliich  the 
sisters  were  removed,  nothing  was  known  of  the  measure 
until  the  following  morning.  But  in  the  much  smaller  town 
of  El  Toro  there  were  whole  streets  lined  on  either  side 
with  high,  massive,  and  windowloss  walls  which  were  the 
fa(;ade8  of  vast  cloisters.     It  was  with  feelings  of  intense 


•fit*'! 

mm 


428 


CIIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


nvi 


m 


VXk 


WXW\ 


H 


.^*" 


•I  fS 


''      I 


though  repressed  excitement  that  Vicente  Gonzales  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  a  small  force  which  was  to  demand 
entrance  to  those  formidable  but  peaceful  structures,  while 
the  mass  of  the  troops  remained  at  the  citadel,  ready  upon 
a  signal  to  enforce  his  authorit}*,  whether  questioned 
by  Church  or  people.  It  was  true  the  populace  had  de- 
clared itself  Liberal  in  sentiment  ever  since  the  defeat  of 
Ramirez  had  left  them  under  the  guns  of  the  Juaristas ; 
but  bred  as  they  had  been  under  the  very  shadow  of  these 
colossal  monuments  of  the  Church  it  was  not  unlikely  that 
when  their  sanctity  was  threatened,  the  momentary  con- 
version of  the  citizens  to  patriotism  might  yield  to  zeal  in 
the  oefence  of  institutions  that  had  appeared  to  them  as 
unassailable  as  the  very  heavens. 

Vicente  Gonzales  might  readily  have  sent  another  to 
fulfil  the  dubious  task  before  him,  —  in  fact  in  most 
cases  men  of  dignity  unconnected  with  the  army  were 
chosen  as  peaceful  ambassadors  of  the  power  that  held 
the  sword ;  but  the  hour  had  arrived  for  which  this  man 
had  pra^'cd  and  fought,  —  for  which  he  would  have  pra3'ed 
and  fought  had  no  individual  suifering  added  sharpness  to 
the  sting  of  the  thorn  that  for  so  long  had  tormented  his 
nation.  He  himself,  he  resolved,  would  execute  the  decree 
that  should  sweep  this  great  incubus  from  the  land.  Per- 
chance among  the  released  he  might  find  one  whom  he 
had  never  consciously  for  one  moment  forgotten  ;  he  might 
see  her.  if  but  for  a  moment,  as  she  passed  in  the  throng. 
He  had  never  ceased  to  see  the  yearning,  despairing,  yet 
resolute  expression  upon  the  young  face  of  Herlinda  Gar- 
cia, as  amid  clouds  of  incense  it  faded  from  his  sight 
behind  the  iron  bars  that  separated  her  and  her  sister 
nuns  from  the  body  of  the  church  whence  he  had  wit- 
nessed her  living  entombment.  That  was  in  a  city  far 
away ;  most  likely  she  was  there  now.  Yet  there  was  a 
chance,  — a  mere  chance  ! 

Strangely  enough,  Ashley  Ward  had  never  spoken  the 
name  of  Herlinda  to  Gonzales  ;  nor  had  either  mentioned 
that  of  Chinita  —  an  inexplicable  yet  differing  motive 
holding  both  silent.  The  rapid  events  of  the  war,  which 
had  given  full  occupation  to  body  and  mind,  had  prevented 
discussion  of  domestic  matters,  and  there  was  something 
in  the  reticence  of  Gonzales  that  forbade  aught  but  deeply 


CIIATA  AND  CHINITA. 


429 


serious  investigation ;  and  for  the  present  Ward  was 
unprepared  to  attempt  this.  The}'  were  friends  ;  but  there 
were  deeps  in  the  nature  of  each  that  the  other  made  no 
attempt  to  fathom.  Upon  tliis  night  Ward  knew  the 
mind  of  Gonzales  perhaps  better  than  did  the  man  him- 
self; and  throughout  the  unwonted  scenes  of  which  he 
was  a  mere  passive  spectator,  to  him  the  most  engrossing 
were  the  emotions  that  betrajcd  themselves  upon  the 
countenance  of  the  commanding  officer. 

As  Ashley  and  Gonzales  left  their  quarters  together, 
behind  them  followed  closely  a  man  in  a  sergeant's  uni- 
form, who  halted  painfully,  and  across  whose  face  was  a 
livid  scar.  To  those  who  had  heard  nothing  of  the  tor- 
ture he  had  undergone,  Pedro  Gomez  would  have  been 
scarcely  recognizable,  —  for  besides  the  disfiguring  scar, 
there  was  an  expression  of  vengeful  and  ferocious  daring 
where  before  had  been  but  dogged  obstinacy  and  a  certain 
rough  kindliness ;  and  to  those  who  had  believed  him 
dead,  his  appearance  would  have  brought  a  supersti- 
tious horror  as  that  of  one  escaped  from  the  tomients  of 
the  damned. 

Besides  these  three,  several  officers  and  other  gentle- 
men, with  a  small  guard  of  soldiers,  passed  out  of  the 
citadel  afoot,  and  at  a  short  interval  were  followed  by  all 
the  available  carriages  of  the  town.  What  occurred  there- 
after may  perhaps  be  best  described  by  a  translation  of 
the  chronicles  of  the  time  :  — 


"  One  night  —  one  terrible  night  —  a  long  and  unusual 
sound,  a  prolonged  rumble,  was  licard  in  the  streets.  It 
seemed  shortly  as  if  all  the  carriages  in  the  cit}'^  had  be- 
come mad,  now  rushing  hither,  now  thither,  waking  from 
sleep  the  peaceful  neighborhood ;  so  that  each  person 
demanded  of  the  other,  '  What  is  this?'  '  What  has  hap- 
pened?' and  no  one  could  answer  with  certainty  the  other. 

"  While  the  people  wondered,  the  carriages  stopped  at 
the  doors  of  the  nunneries,  and  the  gentlemen  charged  with 
the  commission  demanded  entrance,  and  intimated  to  the 
nuns  the  order  to  leave  their  cells  and  refrain  from  re- 
uniting in  cloister. 

"  '  But.  gentlemen,  for  God's  love  ! ' 

"  'IIow  can  this  be?' 


I 


It.' 


v'fv  'ii'ii  „■ 

mm 

mti:  ,  ,  i 


M 


A\ 


mM 


430 


CNATA  AND  CHINITA. 


((  ( 


(( 


*' '  His  will  be  done ! ' 

But  where  can  we  go?    Oh,  what  iniquit}' ! ' 
Such  were  the  phrases  that  broke  the  startled  stillness 
of  the  Cloisters.     But  the  commissioners  were  deaf  to  all 
appr-.ils,  merely  ruobing  their  hands  and  saj'ing,  — 

'•'-  "  Let  us  go.  Let  us  < ,  •  on,  Senoritas !  We  have  no 
time  to  lose  ! ' 

"Truly  the  time  was  limited, — that  night  only,  for 
perchance  b}^  day  the  gentlemen  commissioners  would 
have  had  a  distaste  to  penetrate  the  convents ;  or  per- 
haps only  bj'  night  can  certain  mischievous  deeds  be  car- 
ried to  the  desired  exit. 

"It  is  said  that  some  naugiity  novices  upon  hearing 
themisclves  called  seiioritas  forgot  for  an  instant  their  grief, 
and  smiled.  There  did  not  lack  also  of  those  who  had 
entered  the  category  of  grave  mothers  who  did  the  same  ! 
And  after  all,  was  not  this  a  venial  and  excusable  fault? 
Should  not  a  girl,  beautiful  and  fragrant  as  a  jasmine,  be- 
come tired  of  hearing  herself  addressed  every  hour  and 
every  day  in  the  year  as  '  Little  Mother,'  '  My  Reverend 
Mother,'  '  How  is  your  Reverence?'  .  .  . 

"  This  was  an  event  which  each  one  was  obliged  to 
accept  as  she  would,  but  none  the  less  surel}'.  '  Came  it 
from  God  ?  Came  it  from  Satan  ? '  By  either  it  may 
have  come  ;  but  is  it  not  true  that  Satan  is  —  ourselves  ?  " 

The  party  headed  b}"-  Gonzales  asked  themselves  no 
such  questions  as  these,  but  cautiousl}',  swiftl}',  and  effec- 
tivel}'  did  the  work,  which  history  might  criticise.  No 
time  was  allowed  the  nuns  for  preparation.  Even  from 
the  richest  convents  few  articles  were  carried  away  as 
the  nuns  dispersed.  Perhaps  more  previous  preparation 
than  was  suspected  or  afterward  acknowledged  had  been 
made ;  certain  it  is  that  the  most  magnificent  and  valuable 
jewels  had  disappeared  from  the  vestments  of  the  virgins 
and  saints  upon  the  altars.  But  as  quickl}'  as  might  be 
the  weeping  and  lamenting  sisters  were  placed  in  carriages 
and  convej'ed  to  houses  ready  to  receive  them ;  though 
many  in  the  confusion  wandered  out  into  the  darkness 
and  rain  afoot,  and  gave  a  pathetic  chapter  to  the  tale 
of  bloodless  martyrdom.  As  one  by  one  the  convents 
were  vacated,  the  party  passed  on ;   until  the  smallest 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


431 


I      ■ 

me  was  obliged  to 
surely.  '  Came  it 
By  either  it  may 

,n  is  —  ourselves  ?  " 


anrl  dreariest  of  those  retreats,  that  which  nestled  beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  parish  church,  was  reached. 

Throughout  the  work  Gonzales  had  spoicen  only  to  give 
the  necessary  orders.  The  measure  tliat  in  itself  had  been 
bo  dear  to  his  soul  was  now  in  its  actual  execution  repug- 
nant to  him,  —  the  tears,  the  siglis,  the  long  processions 
of  black-robed  and  wailing  women  distressed  his  heart, 
and  lilled  him  with  s^x^iimc  and  anger.  As  all  this  con- 
tinued, his  face  darkened  and  a  profound  melancholy 
oppressed  him.  It  was  raining  dismally.  In  other  towns 
doubtless  the  same  scenes  were  being  enacted.  He  turned 
faint,  his  eyes  filled  as  with  blood.  Even  Ashley  Ward, 
amid  the  intense  interests  of  the  scenes  around  him,  — 
the  views  of  those  grand  interiors  lighted  by  the  candles 
borne  by  the  retiring  nuns,  and  the  red  glare  of  the 
soldier's  torches,  —  felt  the  influence  of  the  deep  sadness 
of  this  solemn  exodus.  The  clouds  of  incense  sickened 
him,  and  through  them  the  glorified  Madonnas,  the  bleed- 
ing Christs  upon  the  altars,  the  troops  of  black- robed 
nuns  themselves,  seemed  alike  beings  of  another  world, 
into  which  he  had  stepped  unbidden.  The  light  shone 
upon  rows  and  rows  of  white  faces,  which  looked  forth 
from  their  wrappings  like  faces  of  dead  saints.  Ho 
seemed  to  see  each  individual  one.  He  was  excited  to 
the  utmost;  the  blood  pulsed  hotly  through  every  vein, 
yet  a  sense  of  keen  disappointment  chilled  his  heart,  and 
unconsciously  to  himself  something  of  what  he  read  upon 
the  faces  of  Gonzales  and  Pedro  was  reflected  upon  his 
own.  A  profound  quiet  and  solemnity  fell  upon  the  party, 
as  thc}'^  passed  the  vestibule  and  penetrated  the  dim 
recesses  of  the  Convent  of  the  Martyrs. 

There  the  nuns  were  all  gathered  in  the  chapel,  praying 
and  waiting,  and  the  wail  of  the  Miserere  stole  from  the 
great  organ  through  the  dim  arches  and  bare  cells.  In 
that  place  there  was  nothing  of  beauty,  of  grace,  of  sen- 
suous luxury.  The  stern  austerities  of  an  asceticism 
scarce  surpassed  in  medieval  da3's  was  found  behind 
those  massive  and  windowless  walls,  which  shut  out  the 
light,  material  and  moral,  of  the  nineteenth  centur}'. 

As  the  men  entered  the  chapel,  the  nuns  fell  upon  their 
knees  and  covered  tlicir  faces,  —  all  except  the  abbess, 
who  remained  standing  to  hear  the  mandate  of  expulsion. 


432 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


if;  ■■ 


vm^  !^' 


mm 


.'(  '■  .i: 


1:: 


I  i  ;i 


"  Blessed  be  God  ! "  responded  her  deep,  pathetic  voice, 
"Blessed  be  God  in  all  his  works!  Sisters,  let  us  go 
hence ; "  and  taking  up  the  woful  strains  when  the  organ 
ceased,  with  each  nun  adding  to  them  the  weird  beaut>'  of 
her  voice,  the  abbess  led  the  way  to  the  portal,  and  the 
sisterhood  passed  into  the  bleak  darkness  of  the  unfamiliar 
street. 

By  this  time  the  wind  was  blowing,  — a  summer's  wind, 
3'et  it  pierced  the  bodies  upon  whicli  for  3ears  no  air  of 
heaven  had  blown,  —  and  it  was  raining  heavily.  Fortu- 
natel}'  man}'  vehicles  had  gathered  at  the  curb,  and  ere 
long  the  banished  nuns  were  under  shelter ;  and  the  work 
of  the  night  was  accomplished. 

Ashley  Ward,  with  other  officers  and  gentlemen,  had 
busied  himself  in  bestowing  the  poor  ladies  as  rapidl\'  and 
commodiously  as  possible  in  the  carriages,  and  as  tlie  last 
one  turned  the  corner  of  the  great  bi.-'ding,  the  soldiers 
fell  into  line  at  the  word  of  command ;  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments he  found  himself  alone.  He  discovered  this  wJicn 
he  turned  to  speak  to  Gonzales.  He  was  nowhere  to  be 
seen,  and  Ashlc}'  remembered  that  when  he  had  last  seen 
him  it  was  at  the  chapel  door,  watching  with  pale  and 
anxious  countenance  the  exit  of  the  nuns. 

Gonzales  had  been  suffering  from  a  recent  wound.  Had 
the  fatigue  and  exposure,  and  that  deadly  sickness  of 
crushed  and  dying  hope  overcome  him?  Ashley  caught 
up  a  torch,  which  was  sputtering  and  about  to  expire  on 
the  dripping  pave,  fanned  for  a  moment  its  flame,  and 
then  made  his  way  back  into  the  forsaken  building. 

He  found  Gonzales  standing  on  the  spot  where  he  had 
l)arted  from  him,  and  before  him  stood  a  man  with  a 
flickering  torch.  Both  were  in  an  attitude  of  extreme 
dejection ;  both  started  as  Ashley's  footsteps  broke  the 
stillness.  Pedro  —  for  the  second  man  was  he — led  the 
way  into  the  outer  darkness,  and  Gonzales,  having  in  his 
hand  the  heav}'  ke}'  which  had  been  delivered  by  the  ab- 
bess, turned  to  lock  the  abandoned  house.  He  paused 
and  looked  to  the  right  and  left.  Tlie  street  was  utterly 
forsaken  ;  the  rain  came  in  gusts,  and  it  was  with  much 
ado  that  Pedro,  turning  hither  and  thither,  kept  alive  the 
flame  of  the  torch. 

Once  as  he  turned,  the  light  fell  full  upon  the  face  and 


en  ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


433 


;p,  pathetic  voice, 
sisters,  let  us  go 
IS  when  the  organ 
le  weird  beauty  of 
ic  portal,  and  tlio 
s  of  the  unfamiliar 

-a  summer's  wind, 
br  years  no  air  of 
g  heavily.  Fortu- 
°the  curl),  and  ere 
Iter ;  and  the  work 

lid  gentlemen,  had 
dies  as  rapidly  and 
crcs,  and  as  the  last 
v^ding,  the  soldiers 
i ;  and  in  a  few  mo- 
iscovered  this  wlien 
;  was  nowhere  to  he 
len  he  had  last  seen 
hing  with  pale  and 

recent  wound,   iiaa 
deadly  sickness  of 
hi?     Ashley  caught 
about  to  expire  on 
nent  its  flame,  and 
ken  building. 
3  spot  where  he  had 
tood  a  man  with  a 
attitude  of  extreme 
footsteps  broke  the 
lan  was  he— led  the 

izalcs,  having  in  lus 
delivered  by  the  ab- 
.  house.  He  paused 
ic  street  was  utterly 
nd  it  was  with  much 
hither,  kept  alive  the 

uU  upon  the  face  and 


figure  of  Ward;  and  at  the  instant  an  exclamation  of 
incredulous  jo}^  followed  b}'  a  groan,  fell  upon  their  ears. 
Gonzales  dropped  the  kej',  and  it  rang  sharply  upon  the 
stones  at  his  feet. 

"  There  is  a  woman  here  !  "  he  ejaculated  breathlessly. 
Something  in  tlie  tones  had  drawn  the  blood  from  his 
heart.     "  Here !  here !  a  light,  Pedro,  in  God's  name  !  " 

The  senses  of  Pedro  were  even  more  acute  than  those  of 
Gonzales  and  Ward.  Not  only  had  he  heard  the  voice, 
but  he  knew  whose  it  was,  and  whence  it  had  come.  His 
torch  flashed  upon  an  alcove  of  the  deep  wall ;  and  there 
ensconced  Ihey  saw  the  sombre  and  meanl}'  clad  figure 
of  a  nun.  She  had  covered  her  face ;  her  form  shook 
violently. 

"  Seiiorita,"  said  Gonzales,  recovering  himself  and  re- 
spectfully approaching  the  woman,  "  forgive  us  that  j'ou 
are  left  behind.  We  thought  all  had  been  provided  for 
—  all." 

"  It  is  I  who  would  have  it  so,  —  I  who  promised  myself 
I  would  escape,"  answered  the  nun,  brokenly,  yet  with  an 
almost  fierce  intensity.  "  Have  I  not  pra3'ed  and  wept  for 
this  hour?  Could  I  let  it  pass?  No,  no !  I  lingered  —  1 
fled  —  I  could  not,  would  not,  go  with  them.  They  would 
have  dragged  me  with  them  across  the  seas  —  away  — 
away  from  her,  —  m}'^  child  !  my  child !  " 

She  uttered  the  la^t  words  almost  in  a  scream,  j'et  her 
gaze  followed  Ward.  "Who  is  he?  who  is  he?"  she 
asked  in  a  feverish  whisper.  "  It  is  not  my  murdered 
angel,  —  my  love,  mj'  husband,  —  it  is  not  he ;  and  yet  so 
like  I  Oh  m}'  God,  is  it  because  thou  hast  forgiven  me  that 
thou  bringest  this  vision  before  me  ?  " 

Gonzales  started  back ;  gazed  eagerl}'^,  rapturously  at 
the  nun ;  then  rushed  to  clasp  the  coarse  folds  of  her 
drapery.  Pedro  dropped  at  her  feet.  Ward  alone  uttered 
her  name,  —  "  Herlinda !  " 

Gonzales  bent  over  her  hand,  uttering  inarticulate  words 
of  greeting.  She  scarcely  seemed  to  hear  them.  "  Vicente, 
is  it  thou?  "  she  said  faintly.  "  But  he,  who  is  he?  —  the 
man  of  the  yellow  hair,  with  the  face  that  at  prayer  and  at 
penance,  asleep  and  awake,  has  ever  haunted  me  ?  " 

Herlinda  stepped  neaier  to  Ward.  Her  lips  were  parted, 
her  eyes  aflame ;  never  in  all  his  life  before  and  never 

28 


I 


434 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


}\ 


IM 


.  i.:| 


again  saw  he  a  woman  so  bcautifUl  as  this  one  in  tho 
unsightly  garb,  so  coarse  it  grazed  the  skin  where  it 
touched  it.  " No  wonder,"  he  thoiigiit,  "my  cousin  loved 
her ;  he  could  have  done  no  other,  even  had  he  known  ho 
was  doomed  to  die  for  her  1 " 

Ah  !  the  unhui)py  daughter  of  the  haughty  Garcias  was 
fiir  more  beautiful  that  night  than  ever  John  Ashley  had 
beheld  her.  Suffering  lirst  had  refined,  and  now  the 
divine  inspiration  of  hope  illumined  those  perfect  features. 
Ashlej'  Ward  comprehended  this ;  but  Gonzales  with  hor- 
ror recalled  her  words,  and  thought  her  mad.  "  Maria 
/Sanctissima ! "  she  cried  as  tho  light  flashed  full  on  tho 
American,  *'  I  am  forgiven,  that  I  behold  the  living  like- 
ness of  his  face." 

Ward  bent  before  her,  inexpressibl}'  touched.  He  would 
have  spoken,  but  at  this  instant  her  eyes  fell  upon  the 
kneeling  man  at  her  feet  "It  is  Pedro,  —  yes,  it  is 
Pedro,"  Ilerlinda  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Perhaps  he  knows 
of  her,  — yet,  my  God,  he  dares  not  look  at  me !  " 

"Nina,  Nina  I" 

"  Speak,  Pedro,  speak !  thou  must  know  of  her.  Tell 
me,  was  Feliz  faithful  ?     Is  mj'  child  well,  happy  ?  " 

"  Merciful  God,  she  is  indeed  mad !  "  interjected  Gon- 
zales. "  O  Herlinda,  know  you  not  3'ou  never  were  mar- 
ried, never  had  a  child?  " 

Herlinda  turned  on  him  a 
and  impatience,  then  raised 
heaven.     "They  said  I  was 
brokenly ; 
from  me. 


glance  of  mingled  entreaty 
her  eyes  piteously  toward 
not  married,"  she  moaned 

"  but  oh,  1  had  a  child,  —  and  they  took  her 

Oh,  if  I  could  have  died ! " 


Gonzales  turned  from  her  with  a  groan.  How  bitter 
was  the  revelation !  Married  !  It  could  not  have  been  ! 
And  a  child  ?  Ah !  he  knew  then  why  a  convent  had  been 
her  doom. 

In  a  broken  voice  Pedro  began  to  speak.  Ashley,  with 
the  red  glare  of  the  torch  he  held  falling  full  upon  him, 
seemed  to  Gonzales  a  mocking  witness  of  the  shame  and 
woe  which  from  Herlinda  were  reflected  upon  him,  the  man 
who  loved  her,  had  ever  loved  her ;  yet  he  felt  instinctively 
that  the  American  had  a  right  to  hear,  to  judge,  as  well  as 
he.  Ah,  it  was  an  American  who —  "  An  American !  "  he 
gasped,  and  his  hand  touched  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


435 


his  one  in  tlio 
skill  where  it 
[ly  cousin  loved 
,a  Uo  known  ho 

ity  Garcias  was 
ohn  Ashley  had 
,  and  now  the 
perfect  features, 
.nzalcs  with  hor- 
mad.  ''Maria 
shed  full  on  tlio 
a  the  living  Uke- 

ichcd.  He  would 
-es  fell  upon  the 
idro,  — yes,  It  is 
L'erhaps  he  knows 
:  at  me  I " 

now  of  her.    Tell 

I,  happy?" 

'  interjected  Gon- 

i  never  were  mar- 
mingled  entreaty 
pitcously  toward 
fied  "  she  moaned 
[and  they  took  her 

troan.    How  bitter 

[id  not  have  been ! 

convent  had  been 

ieak.    Ashley,  with 

[ling  full  upon  "^™' 
Is  of  the  shame  and 
1  upon  him,  the  man 
he  felt  instinctively 
to  judge,  as  well  as 

I  An  American  I     ae 
)f  his  sword. 


**  Nifla,  Nifia !  "  Pedro  was  saying.  "  The}'  brought  the 
child  to  me.  Oh,  tlie  sweet  child,  with  its  soft,  dark  eyes,  — 
oil,  the  child  with  its  ruddy  curls !  and  1  remembered  all 
that  you  had  said,  my  fSenovita.  I  watched  over  it,  1 
clierished  it,  it  was  my  own  !  " 

"  Thine  !  thine  !  "  cried  the  nun  clasping  her  hands,  and 
in  her  excitement  even  thrusting  him  from  her.  "  It  could 
not  be  !  Oh  Feliz,  Fellz  !  thou  couldst  not  be  so  false  !  " 

The  tone  of  incredulity,  of  horror,  in  which  she  spoke 
pierced  Tedro  to  the  quick;  yet  he  answered  humbly,  "I 
thought  to  please  you,  Niila,  to  keep  her  from  those  jou 
distrusted ;  and  she  was  happy,  oh  quite  happy,  all  through 
her  little  childhood.  You  know  one  can  be  quite  happy- 
playing  in  the  free  air." 

The  released  nun  burst  into  sudden  tears.  "Happy  in 
the  free  air!  Oh  yes,  yes !"  she  cried.  "Oh,  if  all 
these  years  I  could  have  begged  even  from  door  to  door 
with  my  child,  even  with  the  brand  of  shame  upon  me  I 
Oh  the  suffering,  the  suffering  of  these  long,  long  desolate 
years ! " 

Gonzales  stepped  to  her  side,  and  placed  her  arm  within 
his  own.  "Thou  shalt  be  desolate  no  more,  Heilinda," 
he  said,  "  thou  betrayed  angel  of  purity !  " 

"  Betrayed,  no  1 "  cried  Ashley  Ward,  looking  up.  "  De- 
ceived perhaps  they  both  were,  but  the  man  who  was  slain 
as  her  betrayer  believed  himself  her  husband,  as  she  be- 
lieved herself  his  wife,  —  as  I  believe  now  she  most  truly 
was.  Thank  God  I  am  here  to  champion  their  cause  and 
that  of  their  child  ! " 

Gonzales  left  Herlinda  a  moment  to  embrace  Ward  in 
his  southern  fashion ;  then  supporting  her  again  listened  to 
what  Pedro  had  to  say. 

The  mother's  face  grew  whiter  and  whiter  as  the  talc 
proceeded.  "  That,  that  my  child  ! "  she  murmured  at  inter- 
vals, and  her  head  sank  lower  and  lower  upon  her  breast. 
Even  Gonzales  and  Ward  heard  with  amazement  tlie  story 
of  Chinita's  appearance  at  the  cave  where  Pedro  had  lain 
wounded.  "What!"  one  cried,  "has  she  not  been  all 
this  time  in  the  house  of  Dona  Carmen  ?  Did  3'ou  not  tell 
us  that  in  a  strange  freak  of  impatience  she  had  hastened 
there?" 

"  It  was  you,  Sefiores,  who  affirmed  it  must  bo  she, 


I'.l 


*^i 


M'  ' 


mmlM 


m\ 


'■'; 


43G 


Cf/ATA  AND   CIIINITA. 


when  3'ou  heard  of  the  young  girl  who  had  been  taken 
there,  tVoui  the  Indian  wliom  you  captured  as  a  spy  of 
Kauiirez,"  answered  Pedro,  with  the  humble  cunning  of  tiio 
true  raiicliero ;  "and  wliy  should  your  servant  contradict 
you,  when  Chinita  herself  had  commanded  otherwise  —  " 

"And  wliere  in  God's  name  is  she  now?"  demanded 
Ward.  "  You  know  who  I  am.  You  know  all  this  time  1 
could  not  have  rested  tranquil  had  I  thought  —  " 

*'  Have  no  anxiety,  Sefior,"  answered  the  man  with  his 
old  suUenness.  "And  I  swear  to  3'ou,  Nina,  she  is  safe, 
quite  safe.  She  is  with  a  woman  who  can  guard  her  well. 
She  is  gone  to  seek  the  man  who  murdered  her  father.  Ah, 
Niilc ,  /our  daugliter  has  the  blood  of  the  Garcia ;  she  will 
avenge  you ! " 

Herlinda  sank  with  a  moan.  Ashley  would  have  raised 
her,  but  Gonzales  motioned  him  back.  There  was  a  house 
at  a  littli  distance  where  a  widow  and  her  daughters  dwelt, 
and  thithar  he  bore  her. 

It  was  then  at  the  middle  hour  between  midnight  and 
dawn  ;  and  long  before  light,  after  a  hurried  consultation, 
the  three  men  met  again  before  the  widow's  door.  All  ar- 
rangements had  been  made  for  the  brief  transfer  of  the 
conunand  of  the  troops.  Gonzales,  Ashley,  and  Pedro 
acted  as  outriders  for  a  strong  military  coach  drawn  by 
four  fleet  mules.  Into  this  stepped  Herlinda  and  the 
widow,  both  dressed  as  respectable  gentlewomen  ;  and  be- 
fore the  people  of  El  Toro  wakened  from  their  deep  sleep 
tliat  followed  the  excitement  of  the  early  night,  the  travel- 
lers were  far  upon  the  road,  and  though  the  way  was  long 
and  rough  vere  gaining  fast  upon  the  diligence  which 
bore  Dona  Isabel,  her  daughter,  and  Chata. 


had  been  taken 
red  as  a  spy  of 
lo  cunning  of  the 
ii-vant  contradict 
I  otlicrwiso  —  " 
ow?"  demanded 
ow  all  this  time  1 

the  man  with  his 
Siiia,  she  is  safe, 
m  guard  her  well. 
3d  her  father.  Ah, 
}  Garcia ;  she  will 

would  have  raised 
rhere  was  a  house 
r  daughters  dwelt, 

?ccn  midnight  and 
irried  consultation, 
3w'8  door.    AH  ar- 
icf  transfer  of  the 
Lshley,  and  Tedro 
•y  coach  drawn  by 
llcrlinda  and  the 
tlewomen ;  and  be- 
)m  their  deep  sleep 
y  night,  the  travel- 
1  the  way  was  long 
he  diligence  which 
hata. 


XLV. 

On  the  evening  when  Dofia  Isabel  and  her  companions 
set  forth  from  tlie  village  upon  their  toilsome  pilgrimage 
to  Las  Parras,  two  women  leaned  against  the  gate-posts 
at  the  entrance  to  the  garden  wliere  the  mistress  of  Tres 
llcrmanos  and  the  motUer  of  the  administrador  had  parted 
so  many  years  before,  and  looked  wearily  along  the  silent 
road.  One  would  not  have  been  surprised  to  hear  tliat 
during  all  these  years  no  other  mortal  had  approached  the 
place,  for  the  air  of  neglect  it  had  worn  tlien  had  deepened 
into  that  of  utter  abandonment.  It  looked  not  merely  dis- 
used, but  actually  shunned.  The  gate  had  fallen  from  its 
hinges  and  lay  broken  upon  the  rank  coarse  grass  and 
weeds,  which  thrusting  themselves  between  the  bars  filled 
the  paths.  Thick  clumps  of  cacti  and  stunted  uncultivat- 
ed fruit  and  flowers,  with  manzanita  and  other  common 
shrubs  of  the  country,  had  outgrown  and  outrooted  the 
feebler  growths,  and  almost  hid  the  low  front  of  the  solid 
but  dismantled  building,  upon  which  the  iron-ribbed  shut- 
ters hung  forlornly  like  broken  armor  on  a  battered  image. 

The  sun  and  wind  and  rains  had  done  their  work  un- 
checked in  all  these  years,  aided  by  the  revolution,  which 
had  torn  and  scathed  whatever  had  attracted  its  o.eedy 
hand  and  then  passed  on,  leaving  desolation  to  continue 
or  repair  the  work  of  destruction.  The  vines,  which  had 
at  first  served  as  a  graceful  drapery,  hung  so  heavily  on 
every  porch  and  wooden  projection  of  the  house  that  they 
had  broken  down  the  frail  supports,  and  added  to  the 
general  appearance  of  riot  and  disorder;  while  their 
matted  masses  offered  a  defiant  obstruction  to  any  adven- 
turous comer.  Yet  these  women  had  forced  a  way  into 
the  dark  and  mouldy  rooms,  and  found  a  certain  pleasure 
and  security  in  their  seemingly  impenetrable  and  forbid- 
ding aspect. 

"  We  have  been  here  three  days,"  said  the  younger, 
who  even  in  the  declining  light  one  might  see  was  a  mere 


l'/I 


433 


CJ/ATA   AND   C/f/NITA. 


kkm 


girl,  while  her  companion,  though  flmall,  was  old  in  faro 
and  figure,  —  not  with  the  dignity  of  actual  age,  but  witli 
a  sort  of  lithe  grace  and  abandon,  which  comes  from  years 
of  free  and  careless  action.  "  We  have  been  three  days 
waiting,  yet  ho  has  not  come!  You  may  be  mistaken. 
How  can  you  reclton  upon  what  a  man  like  Ramirez  wili 
do?  lie  is  not  like  a  blind  man,  always  led  by  his  dog 
upon  the  same  round." 

"  Necessity  and  habit  aro  tho  dogs  that  load  him,"  said 
the  woman  with  a  slight  laugh.  "  Fortune  is  against  him  ; 
he  has  been  beaten  from  ever}'  stronghold.  1  know  this 
is  the  hole  he  will  creep  into  at  last." 

''And  the  people  here,  they  would  save  him?"  said 
Chinita,  musingl}'.  "  Ho  has  ever  spared  them,  ever  pro- 
tected them,  that  ho  might  have  a  safe  refuge  in  time  of 
need.  Hero,  hero,  but  for  us  he  would  be  safe?  —  but  for 
us,  Dolores  ? " 

"  Ah,  he  is  not  tho  first  who  docs  not  find  oven  nests 
where  ho  hoped  to  find  birds,"  answered  the  woman  called 
Dolores.  "  To-day  ho  is  laughing  at  tlio  little  troop  of 
Liberals  patrolling  these  hills ;  he  will  make  a  way  be- 
tween them.  Yes,  you  will  see ;  here,  here,  upon  this 
very  road,  we  shall  see  him  flash  by  like  a  meteor,  and 
then  bo  lost.  But  my  eyes  can  trace  him  ;  my  hand  will 
be  able  to  point  the  way  ho  has  gone." 

The  woman  had  unwittingly  conjured  up  a  vision  that 
thrilled  tho  imagination  of  the  listener.  "  Oh !  "  she  cried 
with  a  sudden  gesture  of  repulsion  and  weariness,  "  I  am 
sick  of  this  mean  and  miserable  life.  Would  to  God  I 
had  gone  to  him  as  I  vowed  to  do.  Do  not  tell  mo  he 
would  have  laughed  at  my  rage  !  No,  no !  a  man  could 
not  laugh  at  the  girl  who  accused  him  of  the  murder  of 
her  father;  who  stood  before  him  to  remind  him  of  all 
his  secret  and  unnatural  crimes !  Ah,  I  cannot  endure 
this  silent,  creeping  eranity.  Three  times  already  b; 
our  means  ho  has  been  tracked  and  driven  from  hi' 
stronghold ;  once  but  for  Pope  he  would  have  been 
killed,  —  Ruiz  himself  would  have  killed  him  !  " 

"Fox  against  tiger!"  cried  Dolores,  contemptuously. 
"  Bah !  tho  idiot  might  have  known  that  with  tho  smell 
of  blood  in  the  air,  not  oven  the  shadow  of  tho  cross 
would   save  him  if  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  Ramirez ; 


CllATA   AND   C///NITA. 


439 


wras  old  in  face 
il  ago,  but  with 
•incs  from  years 
)ccu  three  days 
y  be  iiiiHtaken. 
ie  Ramirez  will 
led  by  hia  dog 

lead  him,"  said 
is  against  him  ; 
1.     1  kuow  this 

,vo  him?"   said 

them,  ever  pro- 

•cfugc  in  time  of 

sale?  —  but  for 

:  find  even  nests 
ne  woman  called 
3  little  troop  of 
nako  a  way  be- 
here,  upon  this 
:e  a  meteor,  and 
Q  ;  my  hand  will 

lip  a  vision  that 
Oh !  "  she  cried 
eariness,  *'  I  am 
Should  to  God  I 
I  not  tell  me  he 
lO  1  a  man  could 
)f  the  murder  of 
mind  him  of  all 

cannot  endure 
mes  already  b; 
Iriven  from  hi' 
)uld    have   been 

him!" 
contemptuously, 
t  with  the  smell 
DW  of  the  cross 
ds  of  Ramirez; 


yet  ho  nislicd  on  hin  fato.  And  for  Ratnirex  there  waits 
lor  iiitn  a  doom  more  just  than  death  on  the  battlelleld,  — 
tltough  you,  who  warned  i'epu  to  save  him,  are  but  a 
faint-hearted  wiiakling." 

•'  WouUI  you  have  him  die  without  knowing  the  revenge 
tliat  followed  him?"  cried  Chinita.  '' What  would  death 
aioue  bo  to  such  a  man  as  he?  It  was  you,  yourself,  who 
first  urged  Pope  to  leave  us,  —  not  that  he  might  kill,  but 
if  need  were  save,  Ramirez." 

"It  is  true,"  answered  Dolores,  molUfled ;  yet  she  fixed 
upon  Chinita  a  long  and  penetrating  gaze,  which  seemed 
to  read  her  very  soul.  **  But  you  are  a  strange,  strange 
creature,  —  a  peasant  for  all  your  prido.  He  is  still  more 
a  grand  gentleman  to  staro  at  with  fear  than  a  murderer 
and  robber  to  you." 

Chinita's  face  turned  white.  The  reproach  of  the  'voman 
stung  her,  yet  she  felt  it  was  just.  "  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man !  " 
she  presently  muttered  ;  "  oh,  if  I  were  a  man  1 " 

"  Yes,  the  way  would  have  been  short  then,"  said  Do- 
lores. "  Just  a  knife-thrust,  and  the  debt  would  havo 
been  paid.  But  the  revenge  of  women  can  be  u  thousr4nd 
times  more  decp:  more  sweet,  if  one  has  the  patience  to 
wait." 

''  Patience  I  "  exclaimed  Chinita  in  that  shrill,  metallic 
voice  that  indicates  a  mental  tension  so  violent  and  long 
continued  that  every  chord  of  the  nervous  sj'stem  vi- 
brates painfully  at  a  word.  "Have  I  not  had  patience? 
Have  I  not  waited  at  your  bidding  until  I  seem  to  live  in 
a  frenzy  of  fear  lest  he  should  escape,  and  never  hear, 
never  see  me,  never  know  who  I  am  ?  And  what  have  I 
gained  ?  Ruiz  is  dead ;  Pepe  perhaps  is  dead.  Ah,  if  I 
had  spoken !  Had  Ramirez  known  that  I  live,  it  might 
have  saved  them  both !  " 

The  woman's  answering  laugh  had  more  of  scorn  than 
mirth  in  it.  "Be  quiet,  child!"  she  said.  "You  are 
young.  You  think  Ramirez  has  a  conscience,  and  that 
you  would  havo  roused  it  to  torment  him.  Pshaw !  I  will 
arm  you  with  a  better  weapon ;  a  little  patience  —  per- 
haps to-morrow  —  and  you  will  see ! " 

"  Mysteries !  always  mysteries ! "  exclaimed  Chinita, 
with  increased  impatience.  "  Santa  Maria  t  why  do  you 
not  push   back   that  black    kerchief  from    your  brows? 


i'.  ft 


u 

5'^ 

••''          1 

li ' 
ii  > 

'     i 

w 

'■■^' 

ti('> 


***1 


1 

t 

'1 

li 

u 

1 

:•  \ 

ii 

,  ^  ; 

440 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


Have  you  the  mark  of  a  jealous  woman's  knife  across 
your  forehead?  Is  your  hair  white,  or — or  —  "  She 
paused,  with  a  horrid  suspicion  flashing  through  her  mind. 
Was  this  woman,  with  whom  she  had  daily  and  nightly 
associated  for  weeks,  a  victim  of  that  species  of  leprosy 
known  as  the  "  painted  "  ?  Was  some  dread  trace  of  it  to 
be  seen  upon  that  constantly  covered  head  ?  Dolores  with 
careless  grace  had  raised  and  clasped  her  hands  above 
the  unsightly  kerchief.  The  bared  arms  were  clear  and 
fair;  only  the  deep-lined  face  they  encircled  looked  old, 
but  care,  not  disease,  had  marked  it.  She  looked  at 
Chinita  through  the  growing  dusk  with  an  inscrutable  ex- 
pression in  her  almond-shaped  and  beautiful  eyes.  They 
were  eyes  that  still  might  fascinate  at  will.  Chinita  drew  a 
little  nearer  to  her,  and  sighed  deeply.  There  was  a  sense' 
of  guilt  upon  the  girl's  mind  since  she  had  heard  of  the 
death  of  Ruiz  ;  a  sickening  apprehension,  too,  for  the  fate 
of  Pepe  Ortiz. 

Dolores  read  her  thoughts.  She  dropped  one  hand 
from  her  head  upon  the  young  girl's  shoulder.  There 
seemed  something  magnetic  in  the  touch.  Chinita,  though 
she  would  rather  have  resisted,  yielded  to  it,  —  like  a  net- 
tle grasped  in  a  strong  hand.  "Silly  one,"  said  the 
woman  soothingly,  "  fret  not  yourself  for  Ruiz.  Ramirez 
knew  him  better  than  did  j'ou.  He  had  had  long  years  to 
con  the  leiison  in.  It  is  well  for  the  weak  defenceless 
creatures  of  the  earth  that  these  wild  beasts  attack  and 
destroy  one  another ! " 

Chinita  looked  unconvinced.  In  spite  of  doubts,  she 
had  had  a  certain  pride  and  solace  in  the  belief  that  Ruiz 
would  prove  true  to  Ramirez,  —  true  through  his  love  for 
her.  She  had  purposely  left  him  ignorant  of  the  change 
in  her  own  views  and  feelings  in  regard  to  Ramirez  that 
he  might  be  free  to  act  upon  his  own  impulses  and  convic- 
tions. She  knew  not  what  she  would  have  had  him  do, 
yet  all  the  same  he  had  disappointed  her.  She  had  no 
clews  to  the  motives  of  Ruiz,  other  than  those  Dolores 
suggested  to  her,  and  there  was  an  uncertaint}'  and  vague- 
ness overhanging  him  which  made  him  in  her  eyes  a  victim 
to  his  love  for  her,  and  a  fresh  cause  for  accusation  of  the 
man  who  seemed  destined  utterly  to  bereave  and  despoil 
her.     Strangely  enough,  in  her  wildest  excitement  Chinita 


J  knife  across 
_or  — "      She 
)ngh  her  nind. 
iy  and  nightly 
jies  of  leprosy 
d  trace  of  it  to 
Dolores  with 
:  hands  above 
(vere  clear  and 
Led  looked  old, 
She  looked  at 
inscrutable  ex- 
ul  eyes.    They 
Chinita  drew  a 
ere  was  a  sense' 
,d  heard  of  the 
too,  for  the  fate 

pped  one  hand 
lioulder.  There 
Chinita,  though 
it,  —  like  a  net- 
one,"  said  the 
Ruiz.  Ramirez 
id  long  years  to 
jak  defenceless 
lasts  attack  and 

of  doubts,  she 

)Ki\\ef  that  Ruiz 

lugh  his  love  for 

of  the  change 
io  Ramirez  that 
Iscs  and  convic- 
ive  had  him  do, 

,  She  had  no 
those  Dolores 
[inty  and  vague- 
ler  eyes  a  victim 

jcusation  of  the 

tve  and  despoil 
fitement  Chinita 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


441 


had  never  formulated  for  herself  any  definite  mode  of  ac- 
tion when  she  should  sec  Ramirez,  —  as  see  him,  accuse, 
defy  him  she  would  !  There  had  been  a  conviction  in  her 
mind  that  in  her  the  ghosts  of  the  innocent  he  had  slain, 
the  shame,  —  which  with  strange  perversity  he  had  shrunk 
from  when  it  menaced  his  family  pride  in  the  person  of 
llerlinda  Garcia,  —  the  contempt  and  hatred  of  his  wronged 
sister,  would  all  rise  to  confront  and  overwhelm  him.  That 
which  should  follow,  time,  circumstance  would  determine ; 
but  that  the  wild  fever  of  her  passion  would  be  satisfied 
she  would  not  doubt.  She  had  longed  with  an  ever  in- 
creasing excitement  to  find  herself  before  Ramirez,  and  to 
pour  forth  her  wrongs  in  burning  words.  Yet  this  woman 
Dolores,  with  a  fascination  even  greater  than  the  uncon- 
scious one  that  Ramirez  himself  had  exerted  over  her,  had 
withheld  her  from  her  purpose,  had  even  led  her  to  gain 
the  secrets  of  the  chieftain's  plans  from  his  most  trusted 
confidants,  —  the  j'oung  girl  reddened  with  shame  and 
anger,  yet  with  flattered  vanity,  when  she  remembered 
that  the  sight  of  her  beaut}'  had  been  more  potent  than 
the  gold  of  Dolores.  Chinita  had  not  guessed  that  she  had 
been  purposely  employed  to  act  the  part  of  a  spy,  and  had 
resented  deeply  the  fact  that  her  discoveries  had  more 
than  once  been  transmitted  to  Gonzales,  and  that  her  re- 
venge was  supposed  to  be  gratified  by  the  consequent  de- 
feat which  had  overcome  Ramirez.  Her  longing  was  for 
a  more  dramatic,  more  direct  revenge.  Pedro  and  Dolores 
could  plot  and  scheme  for  the  silent  overthrow  of  him  who 
had  wronged  them ;  they  gloried  in  their  astuteness  that 
made  him  an  unsuspicious  victim,  while  Chinita  writhed 
under  it,  and  only  the  promise  that  in  Las  Parras  she 
should  accuse  Ramirez  face  to  face  had  made  endurable 
to  her  the  life  of  secret  intrigue  and  absolute  disguise  and 
constant  change  that  she  had  led  for  weeks.  The  element 
of  peril,  it  is  true,  had  stimulated  her  adventurous  spirit ; 
but  she  would  fain  have  been  in  tiie  midst,  not  hovering  a 
ready  fugitive  upon  the  edge  of  the  fray. 

When  weeks  before  Chinita  had,  after  her  faintncss, 
opened  her  eyes  in  the  low,  rocky  cave  in  which  Pedro 
lay,  it  had  been  to  find  him  an  almost  unrecognizable 
mass  of  wounds  and  bruises,  lying  on  a  sheepskin  pallet, 
gazing  at  her  with  wide-distended  eyes,  and  ejaculating 


'g 


i 


':  11 


K 


ifi' 


442 


CIIATA  AND   CIIINITA. 


hi\ 


M 


.(*- 


:<^;ll 


\\\  :  V 


n 


in  tones  of  dismay,  mingled  with  incredulous  delight, 
"What  have  I  done?  Oh  God!  is  it  possible  that  she 
has  come  to  me,  — the  miserable,  dying  Pedro?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Pedro,  I  am  here!"  she  cried  staggering 
to  her  feet.  "  Ah,  the  American  thought  I  had  forgotten 
thee ;  but  thou  wert  in  my  heart  all  the  time  that  he 
talked.  Ah,  though  I  am  of  other  blood,  it  is  thou  that 
hast  saved  me !  They  would  have  thrust  me  out  to  die. 
I  will  cling  to  thee  while  thou  livest ;  I  will  avenge  thee 
when  thou  diest!" 

"  Hush ! "  muttered  Pedro  faintl}',  as  she  stooped  and 
kissed  his  hand,  bedewing  it  with  her  tears.  "Ah,  I 
shall  not  die,  now  you  have  come.  Did  I  not  tell  you," 
he  asked,  turning  to  a  figure  beside  Chinita,  "  that  I 
should  live  if  I  could  know  she  loved  me?" 

"And  this  is  the  girl  you  have  nurtured?"  asked  the 
stifled  voice  ^f  a  woman.  She  was  not  as  tall  as  Chinita, 
and  she  held  a  candle  up  close  to  the  face  of  the  girl  to 
look  at  her.  Chinita  was  spent  with  fatigue ;  moreover 
there  were  tears  on  her  face,  and  she  resented  the  in- 
spection, pushing  away  the  woman's  hand  rudely.  Yet 
it  was  not  that  of  a  servant,  nor  of  a  woman  of  the  lower 
class.  Even  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment  Chinita 
was  conscious  of  wondering  who  and  what  this  person 
was.  How  came  she  there  in  the  cave  among  these 
fugitives  ? 

"  But  for  her  I  should  have  been  dead  already,"  Pedro 
was  saying.  "  She  has  wondrous  skill  and  knowledge  of 
surgery  and  herbs.  But,"  he  added,  in  a  low,  apologetic 
voice,  "  she  knows  all.  I  have  talked  in  my  delirium.  I 
could  not  help  it.  You  will  pardon  me,  —  if  I  die  you  will 
pardon  me?" 

"  I  have  nothing  to  pardon !  "  cried  Chinita.  "  What ! 
you  think  because  ray  mother  lives  T  would  hide  her  name  ? 
No,  no  I  I  have  endured  enough  for  her  cowardice  and  the 
shame  of  Doiia  Isabel.  No,  no !  let  me  but  see  Ramirez, 
—  this  Leon  Valle,  —  and  though  it  be  before  all  the  world, 
I  will  declare  who  I  am.  The  American,  Ashley  Ward, 
says  he  will  claim  me  as  his  cousin.  Pepo  must  ride  and 
tell  him  I  am  here,  and  we  will  have  vengeance  together 
for  the  cruel  deeds  of  Ramirez.  You  shall  be  avenged, 
Pedro,  3'ou  shall  be  avenged ! " 


m 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA, 


443 


jdulous  delight, 
lossible  that  she 
•edro?" 

cried  staggering 
1 1  had  forgotten 
lie  time  that  he 
1,  it  is  thou  that 
st  uie  out  to  die. 
will  avenge  thee 

she  stooped  and 
tears.  "Ah,  I 
i  I  not  tell  you," 
^hinita,  "that  I 
tne?" 

ired?"  asked  the 
IS  tall  as  Chinita, 
face  of  the  girl  to 
atigue;  moreover 
resented  the  in- 
and  rudel}'.  Yet 
man  of  the  lower 
moment  Chinita 
what  this  person 
ave  among  these 

i  already,"  Pedro 

and  knowledge  of 

a  low,  apologetic 

my  delirium.     I 

—  if  I  die  you  will 

hinita.     "What! 

d  hide  her  name  ? 
cowardice  and  the 

but  see  Ramirez, 
fore  all  the  world, 
m,  Ashley  Ward, 
}p6  must  ride  and 
mgeance  together 

ihall  be  avenged, 


The  sick  man's  ej'es  glistened.  As  she  spoke,  Chinita's 
face  had  glowed  with  an  unrelenting  and  cruel  intensity 
of  purpose.  The  woman  at  her  side  had  never  once  re- 
moved her  eyes  from  her.  No  one  was  noticing  her ;  had 
they  done  so,  they  would  have  beheld  an  extraordinary 
series  of  changes  pass  over  her  dark  but  mobile  face,  — 
suspicion,  delight,  doubt,  alarm,  conviction.  Suddenly 
she  seized  Chinita's  hand,  and  pressed  it  to  her  heart ;  it 
was  beating  so  tumultuously  that  the  young  girl  drew  back 
startled.  The  woman  thrust  her  hands  under  the  loose 
folds  of  the  black  kerchief  that  draped  her  head  with  a 
sombre  yet  Oriental  grace,  then  withdrawing  them  caught 
a  stray  lock  of  Chinita's  hair,  and  burst  into  a  long,  low, 
triumphant  laugh. 

Chinita  drew  herself  awaj',  alarmed  and  offended.  Pepe 
bad  come  in  ;  and  looking  at  her  anxiously  he  said,  "Nina, 
do  not  mind  her.  Esteban  tells  me  she  is  a  mad  woman  ; 
yet  she  does  no  harm.  She  does  not  know  what  she  talks 
of,  and  one  moment  denies  what  she  has  said  at  another. 
It  would  not  be  strange  if  she  should  tell  you  some  dread- 
ful tale,  and  afterward  laugh,  and  say  grief  had  made 
her  mad!" 

"  And  so  it  has,"  cried  the  woman.  "  Ah  yes,  I  have 
been  mad ;  but  that  is  past.  Yes,  yes.  Life  of  my  soul," 
turning  to  Chinita,  "  how  beautiful  thou  art !  And  the  hair, 
it  is  a  miracle !  In  all  the  world  thore  should  be  no  other 
with  such  hair.  Thou  hast  had  good  fortune,  Pedro,  to 
bring  up  such  a  child.  She  is  an  angel.  Ah,  it  is  as  if  I 
had  seen  her  all  my  life !  And  thou  hast  a  spirit  to  match 
thy  face,"  she  added  turning  again  to  Chinita.  "  Thou 
canst  not  brook  a  wrong.  Well,  well!  we  will  make 
common  cause  ;  and  some  day — soon,  soon  we  will  stand 
together  before  Leon  Valle  with  such  a  tale,  such  a  revenge, 
that  even  he  will  sink  before  it.  To  think  that  after  all 
these  years,  I  shall  turn  against  him  the  dagger  with  which 
he  has  pierced  me  ! " 

"Who  are  you?  What  do  you  know  of  me?"  cried 
Chinita,  shuddering,  though  she  understood  that  the 
weapon  of  which  the  stranger  spoke  was  no  material  tool. 
"  Why  should  you  join  with  me,  or  I  with  you?  No,  no ; 
when  Pedro  is  able,  we  will  go  away,  you  your  way, 
and  I  mine  !  " 


Ml' 


Lit 


!•? 


■!••; 


444 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


*'  Our  ways  lie  together!  "  cried  the  woman,  excitecllj'. 
"  The  one  without  the  other  would  fail.  Oh !  you  think 
me  mad,  but  I  am  not.  I  could  tell  you  things,  — but  no, 
I  will  wait;  perhaps  thou  hast  not  even  heard  of  me. 
Ah !  how  many  years  is  it  since  I  disappeared  from  the 
world,  that  I  have  been  forgotten?" 

Pedro  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  painfuU}'^,  and  gazed 
at  her  with  a  long  and  eager  scrutiny.  "  I  know  you  now," 
he  said,  "though  I  never  saw  you  but  once,  and  then 
you  were  beautiful  as  the  Holy  Madonna  on  the  high 
altar  at  Pueblo." 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted;  "I  am  Dolores,  whom  Valle 
loved.  Ah,  you  think  that  strange,  because  ray  beaut}'  is 
gone,  and  I  am  old,  and  like  a  witch,  living  in  this  murky 
cave!  Where  else  should  I  go  —  I,  whom  he  stole  away 
and  betrayed,  and  despoiled  and  forsook  ?  " 

"  But  you  are  rich,"  said  Pepe  in  wonder,  and  in  a  tone 
that  seemed  to  condone  the  rest. 

"Rich!"  she  said  scornfull}-.  "Rich!  yes,  for  such 
needs  as  mine.  Rich !  he  used  to  give  me  jewels  a  queen 
might  have  been  proud  of.  He  thought  I  wasted,  lost, 
destro^'ed  them,  as  he  would  have  done,  but  I  kept  them,  — 
kept  them  for  my  child.  Ah,  I  knew  she  would  be  beau- 
tiful, would  be  worthy  of  the  rarest  and  costliest  I  could 
give  her.  Ah,  I  would  give  her  jewels !  such  jewels  as 
would  buy  her  love,  were  she  as  capricious,  as  hard,  as 
Ramirez  himself." 

Chinita  drew  back  from  her, 
certain  loathing  upon  her  face, 
she  said  coldly.      "You  chose 
wrongs,  they 


can  be  nothing  to  mine. 


with  a  certain  hauteur,  a 

"  I  have  heard  of  you," 

your  lot.  If  you  have 

See  "  —  and  she 


pointed  to  Pedro — "  what  Ramirez  has  done  but  now; 
while  but  for  his  murderous  knife  my  father  would  have 
lived,  and  my  mother  would  not  have  been  obliged  to 
hide  her  disgraced  head  in  a  convent,  and  I  should  not 
have  been  left  a  pauper  at  the  gate  of  my  mother's  house." 
"There  can  be  no  wrongs  greater  than  these?"  said 
the  woman  half  interrogatively,  half  affirmatively.  "Yet 
listen !  He  stole  me  away  from  my  husband  ;  I  swear  I 
did  not  go  willingly,  though  T  loved  him,  — oh  my  God, 
how  I  loved  him  !  For  him  1  died  to  the  world.  I  forsook 
the  father  who  was  dear  to  me  as  life.     I  lived  a  life  of 


>man,  excitcdlj'. 
Oh !  you  think 
lings,  — but  no, 
n  heard  of  me. 
peared  from  the 

ifully,  and  gazed 
know  you  now," 
once,  and  then 
na  on  the  high 

res,  whom  Valle 
ase  my  beauty  is 
ng  in  this  murky 
•m  he  stole  away 

er,  and  in  a  tone 

i!  VC3,  for  such 
e  jewels  a  queen 
i  1  wasted,  lost, 
it  I  kept  them,  — 
5  would  be  beau- 
costliest  I  could 
such  jewels  as 
)us,  as  hard,  as 

srtain  hauteur,  a 
e  heard  of  you," 
If  you  have 
See  "  —  and  she 
done  but  now ; 
her  would  have 
3ecn  obliged  to 
nd  I  should  not 
mother's  house." 
an  these?"  said 
natively.     "  Yet 
and  ;  I  swear  I 
—  oh  my  God, 
world.    I  forsoolc 
I  lived  a  life  of 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


445 


infamy,  hiding  in  obscure  villages,  in  mountain  huts,  in 
caves  when  need  were.  I  bore  him  children ;  but  tliey 
died,  —  all  died  as  though  there  was  a  curse  upon  them. 


That  angered  him ;   then  he 


grew 


cold,  then  false  and 


cruel.  One  day  a  captive  was  brought  into  the  camp  for 
ransom,  — a  captive  he  himself  had  made.  He  sent  to  me 
to  look  at  the  man  and  to  set  a  price  upon  his  head.  I 
went,  as  he  told  me,  in  gay  attire,  v/ith  jewels  blazing  on 
my  arms  and  neck,  a  ^^adem  upon  my  head.  When  the 
prisoner  looked  up  and  saw  me,  with  the  price  of  my 
shame  as  he  thought  upon  me,  he  staggered,  gasped,  and 
fell  down  dead.  He  was  my  father.  M}'  senses  fled,  j'et 
when  another  child  was  born  they  returned  to  me.  She 
was  strong  and  beautiful.  I  clasped  m}'  treasure  ;  but  my 
heart  burned  against  her  father.  I  swore  I  would  leave 
him,  that  I  would  hide  the  child  where  he  never  should 
discover  her.  Fool !  fool !  that  I  was !  When  I  woke 
next  day,  for  in  my  weakness  I  slept,  the  babe  was  gone, 
—  dead  they  told  me ;  gone  too  the  pretty  clothing  I  had 
made,  the  little  trinkets  I  had  placed  about  her  neck. 
But  the  blessed  praj'ers  I  had  bought  from  the  holy 
nuns  of  La  Piedad  were  not  in  vain !  No,  no !  wretch, 
demon,  that  he  was  ! " 

Chinita's  heart  beat  suffocatingly.  "What!  3'ou  think 
the  child  was  still  living?"  she  said. 

"I  know  it!  I  know  '';!"  cried  Dolores.  "I  feel  it 
here,  —  here  in  my  heart,  which  beats  for  her.  And  some- 
time, when  I  find  that  child,  if  I  do  find  her,  think  you  she 
will  love  me?  Think  you  she  will  hate  her  father  as  I  do? 
Think  you  she  will  avenge  my  wrongs  and  hers  ?  " 

"  But  if  he  loved  her,"  said  Chinita;  "if  he  meant  to 
separate  her  from  —  from  such  a  woman  as  j'ou  had  been  I 
Oh,  I  know  you  have  sufl"ercd,  that  you  have  reason  for 
vengeance;  but  — "  she  cried  lij'stericallv,  striking  her 
hands  together,  terribly  moved,  she  knew  not  wh}'.  The 
strange  woman  b"oke  into  sobs,  piteous  to  hear.  Chinita 
clasped  her  hands.  "  But  you  would  not  have  her  —  your 
child — his  child  —  hato  the  man  you  loved?" 

"Hate  him!"  echoed  Dolores.  "I  would  have  her 
hate  him  with  such  hate  as  she  would  bear  toward  the 
fiends  of  hell.  I  would  have  her  know  him  as  you  know 
him, —  the  insatiable  monster  who  wrecked  the  happiness  of 


446 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


^M 


a  sister  too  fond,  oven  when  most  foull}'  wronged,  to  seize 
tlie  vengeance  that  was  within  her  grasp.  Ah,  Dona 
Isabel  it  was  who  set  him  free  to  murder,  to  betray,  to 
wren-jh  the  child  from  its  maddened  mother,  and  cast  it 
out  by  the  first  rude  and  careless  hand  that  would  do  his 
will !  My  God !  were  3'ou  his  child  could  you  have  pity  ? 
Would  you  not  feel  your  wrongs,  —  the  wrongs  of  th'^ 
mother  who  borc  you?" 

Dolores  spoke  with  the  wild  excitement  of  one  who  for 
years  had  brooded  on  this  theme.  Chinita  herself  seemed 
to  be  struggling  with  some  fantasy  of  a  disordered  brain. 
The  woman  actually  glared  upon  her,  as  if  on  her  reply 
hung  her  destiny.  Overcome  by  the  unexpected  demand 
upon  her  sympathy,  — a  demand  that  the  peculiar  cir- 
cumstances of  her  life  made  irresistibly  impressive,  — 
Chinita  shrank  with  horror  at  the  tumult  of  emotion  which 
revealed  to  her  mind  the  possibilities  of  her  own  passion- 
ate nature. 

"  Tell  mo  no  more !  Ask  me  no  more  ! "  she  cried. 
*'  Ah,  if  I  were  his  daughter !  But  no,  I  am  the  daughter 
of  Ilerlinda  Garcia,  and  of  the  man  he  murdered  in  secret. 
Yes,  I  will  seek  Ramirez  out.  I  —  I  —  O  God !  I  know 
not  what  I  will  do,  but  I  will  have  justice !  revenge  I 
revenge ! " 

The  girl  ended  with  a  scream,  and  fell  down,  burying 
her  head  on  Pedro's  shoulder.  The  wounded  man,  his 
ghastly  face  pressed  close  against  her  twining  hair,  looked 
appealingly  to  the  excited  woman  who  stood  over  them. 
There  was  scorn,  rage,  intense  otfence  upon  her  face  ;  but 
slowl}"  they  died  out,  and  she  turned  away  with  the  weary 
.lir  of  one  in  whom  some  periodic  excess  of  passion  or 
iiadness  had  wrought  its  work  and  brought  its  consequent 
exhaustion.  A  half  hour  later  she  brought  the  girl  some 
food,  wonderfully  dainty  for  the  place  and  its  resources, 
and  gently  fed  and  soothed  her.  Pepe  and  Pedro  looked 
on  wonderingly.  All  that  had  been  said  had  passed  so 
quickly  that  they  had  not  realized  that  aught  of  conse- 
quence had  happened ;  but  in  the  quiescent  attitude  of 
Chinita,  and  the  strange  calm  that  had  fallen  upon  the  ex- 
cited and  erratic  woman,  they  instinctively  felt  that  a  new 
phase  of  life  had  begun  for  them.  A  new  spirit  was  in 
future  to  lead  and  rule  them ;  and  it  dwelt  in  the  frame  of 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA. 


447 


ranged,  to  seize 
;p.  Ah,  Dona 
;r,  to  betray,  to 
her,  and  cast  it 
at  would  do  liis 
[  you  have  pity  ? 
wrongs  of  th'^ 

t  of  one  who  for 
a  herself  seemed 
iisordered  brain. 
;  if  on  her  reply 
xpected  demand 
che  peculiar  cir- 
^  impressive,  — 
)f  emotion  which 
her  own  passion- 

)re!"  she  cried, 
am  the  daugliter 
irdered  in  secret. 
O  God !  I  know 
iistice!  revenge! 

II  down,  burying 
)unded  man,  his 
ning  hair,  looked 
tood  over  them, 
on  her  face ;  but 
y  with  the  weary 
3S  of  passion  or 
lit  its  consequent 
^ht  the  girl  some 
lid  its  resources, 
jnd  Pedro  looked 
had  passed  so 
aught  of  conse- 
ccnt  attitude  of 
len  upon  the  ex- 
[y  felt  that  a  new 
lew  spirit  was  in 
t  in  the  frame  of 


this  half-crazed  woman,  who  had  declared  herself  mistress 
of  the  cave.  Tlie  men  thenceforth  seemed  led  by  a  spell ; 
and  to  the  same  spell  Chinita  gradually  succumbed. 

This  had  been  the  first  meeting  of  Chinita  with  the 
woman  who  stood  talking  with  her  nearly  two  months 
later  at  the  garden  gate  of  Las  Parras.  They  had  left  the 
cave  weeks  before,  —  Pepe  and  Pedro,  the  latter  still 
bruised  and  maimed,  to  join  the  troops  of  Gonzales  ;  and 
Cliinita,  unable  to  resist  the  influence  of  Dolores,  followed 
rebclliously  with  swift  and  unerring  movement  the  fortunes 
of  Ramirez.  By  what  arguments  Pedro  had  been  won 
to  consent  to  separate  from  his  foster-child,  and  to  main- 
tain silence  concerning  her  to  Ashley,  can  be  but  guessed ; 
though  certain  it  is  that  Chinita  on  her  part  reminded  him 
of  the  promise  he  had  made  Herlinda  to  protect  her  child 
from  Doiia  Isabel,  to  whose  care  she  justly  suspected 
Ashley  Ward  would  strive  to  return  her.  Meanwhile 
Dolores  adroitly  fostered  in  the  girl's  mind  that  hope  of  a 
peculiar  and  swift  revenge,  which  was  to  satisfy  at  once 
tlie  many  wrongs  that  in  those  diverse  lives  were  clamor- 
ous for  justice ;  while  an  intense  anticipation  urged  the 
gatekeeper  to  hasten  without  delay  to  join  the  Liberal 
army,  —  the  anticipation  of  that  event  which  presented  to 
his  mind  such  wondrous  possil)ilities.  The  convents  once 
opened,  would  Herlinda  claim  her  child?  Would  she 
by  some  strange  miracle  confront  Leon  Valle  and  her 
proud  mother  with  the  proof  of  that  which  Ashley  Ward 
had  in  spite  of  adverse  law  and  custom  declared  still  pos- 
sible, — 'the  proof  of  her  marriage  with  the  American  who 
had  been  slain  without  accusation,  without  the  possibility 
of  defence? 

Pedro  could  not  reason ;  he  could  but  doggedly  wait, 
and  guard  with  silent  fidelity  and  ferocity  the  charge  that 
had  been  given  him.  That  a  superior  intelligence,  an  un- 
declared authorit}^  potent  as  an  armed  power,  had  for  a 
time  wrested  Chinita  from  him,  made  him  only  the  more 
tenacious  when  once  again  he  held  her  in  his  grasp.  His 
foster-child  while  in  the  mountains  with  the  woman  whose 
life  was  bound  in  the  same  interests,  the  same  mj'sterics, 
as  her  own,  was  safe  from  the  possibilities  of  removal 
from  his  cognizance. 

Pedro  was  asked  no  questions  which  he  cared  not  to 


Wi 


Mm 


:  in 


448 


CI/ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


m\ 


t  ii'i 


I  { '  i'^ 


answer,  when  he  presented  himself  among  the  Liberal 
forces.  Ashle}',  tranquil  in  the  belief  that  Chinita  was 
with  Dona  Carmen  in  Guanapila,  avoided  more  than 
casual  mualiou  of  uui  nurac  ;  and  Pedro  jealously'  guarded 
his  secret,  and  patiently  waited  the  moment  he  super- 
stitiously  believed  would  come, — the  moment  which,  when 
it  did  come,  gave  him  the  sharpest  sting  he  had  ever 
K?  own  in  his  stoical  existence;  when  Herlinda  Garcia 
ijr  A  in  uncontrollable  horror  and  dismay,  "What!  you, 
—  you  have  brought  up  my  child  ?  She  was  given  to 
you  I " 

On  the  journey  from  El  Toro  there  was  but  one  thought 
in  the  mind  of  him  who  had  served  with  such  blind  faitli- 
fulness.  For  the  first  time  a  doubt  tormented  him. 
*'  Would  the  beautiful,  uncontrollable  idol  of  his  heart  sat- 
isfy the  longing  —  the  years  of  longing  —  of  the  woman 
who  freed  from  her  bonds  was  hastening  to  claim  her 
daughter  and  acknowledge  her  before  the  world  ?  "  As 
the  hours  passed,  Pedro  shunned  the  eyes  of  Herlinda, 
though  they  looked  upon  him  with  a  grateful  atlection 
that  should  have  been  at  once  an  invitation  to  confi- 
dence and  a  recompense  of  his  long  fidelity.  Yet  with 
the  remembrance  of  Chinita  ever  before  him,  the  glance 
of  Herlinda  seemed  that  of  accusation  and  reproof.  Her 
words  rang  like  a  knell  in  his  heart.  He,  who  knew 
the  vices  and  virtues  of  the  two  castes  which  he  and  the 
still  beautiful  woman  represented,  knew  that  like  oil  and 
water  they  were  irreconcilable,  and  understood  the  full 
significance  of  that  involuntary  cry,  "  What  1  yow,  —  you 
have  brought  up  my  child  ?  " 


m  ' 


)ng  the  Liberal 
lat  Chinita  was 
dcd  more  than 
ialousl}'  guarded 
•ment  he  super- 
lent  which,  wlien 
iig  lie  had  ever 
aerlinda  Garcia 
■f,  "What!  you, 
e  was  given  to 

,  but  one  thought 
such  blind  faith- 
tormented  hira. 
[  of  his  heart  sat- 
—  of  the  woman 
ng  to  claim  her 
he  world?"     As 
yes  of  Ilerlinda, 
grateful  attection 
atation  to  confi- 
lelity.     Yet  with 
him,  the  glance 
id  reproof.     Her 
He,   who  knew 
which  he  and  the 
that  like  oil  and 
erstood  the  full 
hat  I  you,  — you 


XLVI. 

A  LEAGUE  or  less  from  the  village  of  Las  Parras  tiicrc 
stood — and  perhaps  still  stands  —  a  s  all  chapel,  built, 
no  one  knows  in  fulfilment  of  what  iloi  vow,  at  the 
entrance  to  a  mountain  pass  of  the  oug'ust  and  most 
dangerous  sort  alike  from  the  forces  of  Nature  and  of 
hunianit3\  Likely  enough  some  rich  hidalgo,  escaping 
from  brigands,  raised  here  the  humble  pile,  and  vowed 
that  the  lamp  should  ever  burn  1  fore  the  Virgin  and 
her  blessed  Child.  But  through  tLj  long  j^ears  of  war, 
as  a  pious  ranchera  had  said  in  holy  horror,  the  blessed 
Babe  had  remained  in  darkness.  But  some  time  after  mid- 
night, one  rainy  night,  a  sudden  flash  of  flame  lighted  up 
not  only  the  dingy  altar  but  the  whole  of  the  small  mouldy 
interior  of  the  chapel,  and  a  scene  was  revealed  which  a 
passing  monk  might  have  viewed  with  reverence,  so  nearly 
must  it  have  copied  one  tliat  maj'  have  been  common 
enough  when  Joseph  and  Mary  journeyed  to  Jerusalem, 
eighteen  hundred  j'ears  and  more  ago. 

This  thought  indeed  enteied  the  mind  of  a  man  who 
riding  through  the  drizzling  rain  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
unusual  light  through  the  unguarded  doorwa}',  and  reining 
his  horse  gazed  curiously  in.  At  first  the  place  seemed  to 
him  full  of  women  and  jaded  beasts ;  then  he  saw  there 
were  but  four  of  each,  and  that  one  of  the  human  creatures 
was  a  man,  —  a  priest.  The  women,  —  good  heavens  !  they 
were  the  Senora  Doiia  Isabel  Garcia,  and  the  girl  whom 
he  had  once  seen  under  circumstances  almost  as  extra- 
ordinary, —  she  whom  he  knew  as  the  daughter  of  Ramirez 
and  the  foster-child  of  Don  Rafael.  Of  the  other  woman 
he  scarcely  thought,  yet  he  instinctively  guessed  she  was 
Dona  Carmen.  Ashley  Ward  looked  round  in  bewilder- 
ment. Only  that  day  some  definite  account  of  what  had 
occurred  at  Tres  Herinanos  had  reached  him,  told  by  a 
man  who  had  been  with  the  administrador  and  his  mother 

29 


Ill  . 


450 


C//ATA   AND  CHINITA. 


m 


M:;; 


1:      ,    f 


in  their  vain  cndcftvors  to  trace  tlio  girl  who  had  been  so 
boldly  spirited  away.  The  search  had  been  long  (h'liiycd 
because  of  the  illness  of  Dona  Feliz ;  but  once  l)e<iun, 
it  had  been  prosecuted  with  untiring  zeal.  Not  a  viiiage, 
scarce  a  hut  throughout  that  region  had  been  unvisited, 
yet  all  in  vain. 

Aside}'  had  heard  the  tale  with  deepest  sympathy.  Oh 
inconceivable  obtuseness  !  that  it  had  not  once  occurred  to 
him  or  to  Gonzales  that  the  girl  of  whom  they  had  heard 
as  sojourning  with  Dona  Carmen,  and  whom  he  had  be- 
lieved to  be  Chinita,  might  prove  to  be  her  vanished  play- 
mate,—  simply  because  the  remembrance  of  the  house  of 
Doiia  Carmen  had  slipped  from  their  minds  when  their 
supposed  knowledge  of  the  movements  of  Chinita  made 
Doila  Carmen's  young  guest  no  longer  an  object  of  interest 
to  them,  simply  because  the  means  adopted  b}'  Kamirez 
for  the  security  of  Chata  would  never  have  suggested 
themselves  to  minds  less  daring,  less  original  than  his 
own.  Ashley  Ward  turned  from  the  doorway  dazed.  The 
presence  of  these  personages  in  such  a  place,  at  such  a 
time,  seemed  unreal,  bewildering,  ominous. 

Upon  the  heavy  sand  the  horse  that  Ashley  rode  had 
made  so  little  noise  that  it  had  not  roused  the  miserable 
travellers  as  they  cowered  wet  and  shivering  around  the 
sputtering  fire,  upon  which  the  priest  with  unhesitating 
hands  threw  some  dry  portion  of  a  wooden  railing  and 
the  broad  cover  of  a  sacred  book  of  music.  Vain  sacrifice ! 
for  being  of  parchment  it  but  curled  and  blackened,  yet 
would  not  burn  any  more  than  would  the  bare  stone  floor 
upon  which  the  welcome  enibers  laj'. 

Turning  biyck  a  few  paces  Ward  encountered  the  car- 
riage he  had  accompanied  thither.  With  bowed  heads, 
endeavoring  thus  to  shelter  their  faces  from  the  mist, 
(jleneral  Gonzales  and  the  servant  Tedro  rode,  one  on 
either  side  of  the  heavy  travelling  carriage.  Just  as 
Ward  appeared  they  caught  sight  of  the  light.  The 
coachman  and  his  helper,  half  dead  as  they  were  from 
want  of  sleep,  saw  it  too,  and  all  the  mules  were  stopped 
as  though  transfixed.  The  men  began  to  mumble  prayers, 
crossing  themselves  with  unction.  Gonzales,  following 
his  habit  of  caution  as  well  as  the  motion  of  Ward,  rode 
softly  forward  to  reconnoitre. 


■ '     ■   !  ! 


C//ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


451 


10  had  been  80 

11  long  (li'litvi'd 
t  once  begun, 

Not  tt  village, 
jecn  uuvisitotl, 

sympathy.     Oh 
)nce  occurred  to 

they  had  heard 
lora  he  had  be- 
r  vanished  play- 

of  the  house  of 
inds  when  their 
)f  Chinita  made 
object  of  interest 
,tcd  by  Kamirez 

have  suggested 
original  than  his 
way  dazed.    The 

place,  at  such  a 
ous. 

Ashley  rode  had 
ed  the  miserable 

sring  around  the 

;ith  unhesitating 
loden  railing  and 
Vain  sacrifice ! 
blackened,  yet 
bare  stone  floor 

|)unterod  the  ear- 
th bowed  heads, 
from  the  mist, 
[ro  rode,  one  on 
jriage.       Just  as 
Ithe  light.      The 
they  were  from 
les  were  stopped 
] mumble  prayers, 
^izalcs,   following 
bu  of  Ward,  rode 


Before  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  had  time  to  ques- 
tion the  nieuniiig  of  the  stoi)page,  (lonzales  had  returned. 
Ilia  face  was  white  with  excitement  as  he  dismounted 
and  opened  the  door  of  the  vehicle. 

"  Senorita,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that  shook  from  sup- 
pressed emotion,  "  a  wonderful  thing  has  ha|)pene(l!" 

Ilerlinda  leaned  eagerly  forward.  She  caught  the  gleam 
of  the  light  and  the  grim  outline  of  the  chapel  against  the 
leaden  sky.  "Is  my  child  —  Leon,  my  uucle  —  here?" 
she  gasi)cd. 

"  No,  no !  that  would  not  bo  so  Strang'^ ;  we  may  per- 
haps at  any  moment  encounter  them,  lint  your  mother, 
your  sister,  —  they  are  in  yonder  church,  drenched, 
wretched ;  travellers  seemingly  more  anxious,  more  eager 
than  ourselves.  From  a  word  1  heard,  they  too  seek  — 
your  child." 

Gonzales  spoke  the  last  two  words  with  evident  diffi- 
culty and  repugnance.  Herlinda  did  not  notice  that. 
She  scarce  had  heard  more  than  the  words,  "  Your 
mother,  your  sister."  In  trembling  haste  she  descended 
from  the  carriage.  Instinctively  she  clasped  the  arm  of 
Ashley  Ward  to  support  her  through  the  inequalities  of 
the  roadway  ;  and  followed  by  Gonzales  and  Pedro,  who 
had  dismounted,  she  sped  with  surprising  fleetness  to  the 
open  door  of  the  chapel. 

At  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps,  those  within 
sprang  to  their  feet  in  terror.  Even  the  brutes  hurtled 
together  within  the  very  rail  of  the  altar,  leaving  free  the 
s[)ace  between  the  fire  and  the  low  arch  beneath  which  the 
intruders  stood.  Tlie  women  stood  panting,  their  hands 
clasped  upon  their  hearts,  their  lips  parted,  their  eyes 
staring  wildly.  Dona  Isabel  was  foremost.  She  first  saw 
as  in  a  vision  her  daughter,  whom  she  believed  still  within 
convent  walls,  supported  by  the  arm  of  the  American. 
She  sank  upon  her  knees ;  her  tongue  clave  to  the  roof 
of  her  mouth. 

"  Mother,"  said  Herlinda  in  a  voice  which  gave  con- 
viction of  the  reality  of  her  presence,  "I  am  no  ghost. 
The  convents  have  been  opened, — I  am  free.  Where 
is  my  daughter  ?  You  took  her  from  me,  —  give  her  back 
to  me.     My  child !  my  child !  " 

She  advanced  into  the  chapel  with  a  gesture  so  earnest, 


M 


ill 


i'- 


I'. 


Vii 


M 


452 


CUATA  AND   CIIINITA, 


\Mh  \  <  ( 


so  impassioned,  that  it  seemed  that  of  concentrated  power 
and  aii<;iiish  coniltiiiod. 

Doiia  lHal)ol  bowed  her  head  on  hor  Imnd.  Under  the 
red  li(;ht  of  tlie  fire  her  form  seemed  to  shrink  and  wither. 

"  Have  mercy  !  ol»,  llerlinda,  liave  mercy  !  "  slie  moaned. 
"  Your  eliild  is  not  lierc.  I  am  seeliinj;  lier,  oh  witli  whiit 
yjriel*,  wliat  anguisii !  All,  my  God,  it  is  true,  —  all,  all 
that  you  can  say  to  me  !  "  She  raised  her  eyes  and  they 
fell  upon  (jonzales.  "  I  thought  to  save  your  honor  and 
njine.  That  there  still  might  be  love  and  joy  for  you,  I 
gave  the  child  to  Feliz  to  do  with  as  she  would.  1  did 
not  think,  I  could  not  think — " 

''Cruel,  cruel  mother!"  cried  Herlinda,  "and  false 
Feliz  !  Oh,  what  reproaches  will  be  bitter  enough,  sharj) 
enough,  to  heap  upon  her !  She  promised  me  she  would 
love  my  child,  care  for  it,  protect  it,  — yes,  even  from  you, 
unnatural  mother  that  you  were  !  Yet  together  you  have 
degraded,  perhai)8  brought  about  the  ruin  of,  my  child ! 
I  have  been  shut  in  from  all  the  world,  —  and  yet  I  am  not 
the  weak  girl  I  was.  No,  the  heart  and  brain  of  a  woman 
grow  even  in  utter  darkness.  You  had  no  right  to  thrust 
my  child  away.  No,  she  was  mine,  —  come  disgrace, 
come  scorn,  what  would,  she  was  mine.  You  tore  her 
from  me,  —  give  her  back  to  me  !  " 

While  this  extraordinary  scene  took  place,  Chata  with 
indescribable  emotion  recognized  the  pale  impulsive  face 
of  the  nun  of  El  Toro,  —  so  pale  still,  so  worn,  yet  so 
strangt'ly  3'oung,  and  lighted  by  the  intense  and  resolute 
spirit  of  a  wronged  and  noble  woman. 

"Yes,  give  me  back  my  child!"  reiterated  Herlinda. 
"  Ah,  Mother,  I  read  3'our  heart ;  I  know  now  better  than  I 
did  then  your  motives  for  utterly  ignoring,  utterly  denying 
my  connection  with  the  American.  Your  brother  killed 
him :  it  was  to  shelter  him,  Leon  Vallti,  as  much  as  to 
hide  what  you  believed  my  shame,  that  you  tore  my  baby 
from  me.  Y''ou  resolved  that  there  should  be  neither  won- 
der nor  question  that  could  incriminate  j'our  idol.  Oh,  a 
sister's  love,  a  sister's  sacrifice  is  beautiful ;  but  where  in 
all  the  world  before  has  it  been  stronger,  more  prescient 
than  that  of  the  mother  for  her  child?" 

Dona  Isabel  raised  her  hands  above  her  head  as  though 
to  ward  off  some  crushing  blow.     Carmen  rushed  forward 


cntratcd  power 

11(1.  Under  the 
ink  and  vvitlu'r. 
1 "  she  moimi'd. 
r,  oh  with  whiit 
true,  —  all,  all 

eyes  and  they 
your  honor  and 

joy  for  you,  I 
5  would.     1  did 

ila,   "  and  false 
r  enough,  sharp 
1  me  she  would 
,  even  froiii  you, 
(gether  you  have 
n  of,  my  child! 
and  yet  I  am  not 
rain  of  a  woman 
lo  right  to  thrust 
-come  disgrace, 
You  tore  her 

lace,  Chata  with 
e  impulsive  face 
so  worn,  yet  so 
use  and  resolute 

erated  Herlinda. 
now  better  than  I 
;,  utterly  denying 
ur  brother  killed 
,  as  much  as  to 
ou  tore  my  baby 
d  be  neither  won- 
'ouridol.     Oh,  a 
^ul ;  but  where  in 
more  prescient 

iY  head  as  though 
n  rushed  forward 


CJIATA   AND   CHINITA. 


4n3 


and  caught  her  sister's  hand.  "  Herlinda,"  she  cried,  "  sny 
no  more.  I  am  your  sister  —  I  am  Cannon  !  Oh,  I  have 
always  known  there  was  a  mystery ;  yet  I  have  lovtid 
you,  holiiivcd  you  true,  believed  you  pure.  You  were 
almost  a  child,  —  you  knew  not  the  evil !  " 

"  1  was  not  a  ehikl !  "  returned  Herlinda,  proudly,  yet 
clasping  her  sister  with  a  grateful  joy.  ''For  all  my 
trusting  love  1  would  not  have  stooped  to  sin.  I  was  mar- 
ried. Yes,"  she  added  defiantly,  "  though  all  the  world 
deny  it,  I  was  married.  God  grant  that  I  may  one  day 
stand  before  my  husband's  murcUuer,  —  oh,  with  that  word 
I  will  overwhelm  him.  What !  he,  the  ravishcr,  the  assas- 
sin, think  to  avenge  my  honor  1 " 

The  form  of  the  excited  woman  dilated  as  she  spoke. 
Through  the  dim  chapel  her  voice  pealed  with  a  ring  of 
purity  and  truth,  more  clear  than  the  tone  of  silver  bells. 
There  was  a  clamor  of  answering  voices.  Even  the  priest 
started  forward,  but  Chata  caught  his  flowing  gown  and 
whispered  him  in  broken  accents,  — 

"  Oh,  for  the  pity  of  God  hide  me.  Let  her  not  see  me  ! 
Oh,  this  is  too  terrible,  too  terrible !  "  She  shook  with 
dread.  "  Madre  Sanctissima,  it  will  kill  mo  if  her  eyes 
fall  upon  me  I  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  man  she  seeks. 
O  Virgin  of  Succors,  pity  me  1  " 

The  burly  person  of  the  priest  supported  and  sheltered 
the  stricken  and  trembling  girl.  "  Courage,  courage  I "  he 
whispered.  "  Thou  shalt  plead  for  him.  For  thy  sake  she 
will  forego  the  claims  of  justice,  —  she  will  forgive  ! "  He 
naturally  attributed  her  emotion  to  apprehensions  for  her 
father's  fate.     "  Yes,  even  I  will  plead  with  her." 

But  in  the  brief  space  of  this  interference  there  had  been 
a  movement  at  the  door,  and  a  strange  voice  was  heard. 
<  lonzales  —  who  throughout  had  stood  just  back  of  Her- 
linda, chafing  that  he  was  not  at  her  side,  for  he  would 
ha\o  championed  her  before  the  world  —  disappeared  for 
a  moment ;  then  returning,  strode  forward  to  the  fire  and 
raised  Doiia  Isabel  with  a  not  unkindly  though  imperious 
hand. 

"  Sefiora,"  he  said,  "  I  have  this  moment  heard  news 
of  Ramirez,  brought  by  an  escaped  prisoner,  one  of  your 
own  men,  Pepe  Ortiz  by  name.  As  we  suspected,  the 
defeated  and  desperate  chief  is  on  his  way  to,  perhaps  has 


X^ 


454 


CHATA  AND  CUINITA. 


-f 


..;f 


Wf 


'A'' 


entered,  Las  Parras.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost.  With 
him  —  accusing  him,  for  such  was  lier  mad  purpose  —  we 
may  find  your  daughter's  child.  Oh,  would  to  God,"  he 
added  with  fervor,  "  I  had  known  this  horrible  blight  upon 
Herlinda's  young  life !  I  would  have  sheltered,  I  would 
have  sustained  her.     I  would  have  appealed  to  Rome." 

Doiia  Isabel  looked  at  Gonzales  in  a  dazed  wa}',  slightly 
swaying  as  she  stood.  "Thou  wert  ever  noble,  ever 
true,"  she  said  dreamily.  "  Thou  lovedst  her.  But  Leon  ? 
She  spoke  of  Leon.  Then  it  is  true  !  He  did  indeed  mur- 
der the  American.    But  he  is  dead  ;  he  is  dead." 

The  mind  of  the  poor  lady  seemed  wandering.  She 
stood  looking  about  her  with  an  awful  smile.  Gonzales 
saw  that  she  did  not  connect  the  name  of  Ramirez  with 
her  brother.  Illness,  exertion,  and  the  intense  emotions 
of  that  hour  had  made  it  impossible  for  her  to  receive 
any  fresh  impressions,  or  even  to  recall  those  that  perhaps 
had  once  faintly'  suggested  themselves  and  had  faded. 
She  was  conscious  of  but  one  thought,  one  hope.  "  Her- 
linda's child,  Herlinda's  child ! "  she  repeated  again  and 
again.     "  O  God,  to  find,  to  give  back  the  child  !  " 

The  agonized  woman  would  have  clasped  the  hand  of 
Gonzales  appealingly,  but  he  had  turned  and  led  Ilerlinda 
from  the  place.  Chata,  gliding  toward  Dona  Isabel,  drew 
the  arm  of  the  suffering  lady  around  her  neck,  and  mur- 
muring fond  words,  thus  stood  supporting  her.  And  thus 
some  moments  later  Ashley  Ward  found  them.  The 
young  girl  seemed  in  his  eyes  the  very  embodiment  of 
Tenderness  supporting  Despair. 

Ashley  took  her  hand.  "  Oh,  Chata ! "  he  said,  "  what 
a  fearful  error  this  has  been  !  And  Chinita,  where  shall  we 
find  her  ?  Poor  girl,  poor  girl !  God  grant  she  has  not 
found  that  man ;  the  horrible  fascination  he  held  over 
lior  might  prove  more  fatal  than  her  Pf;wl3^-sworn  hatred. 
Coine,  come,  let  us  hasten.  It  is  at  least  certain  that 
Ramirez  is  at  this  moment  in  Las  Parras." 

"  Chinita  !  "  cried  Chata,  her  heart  sickening.  "  What, 
is  Chinita  the  child  of  Doiia  Herlinda  ?  I  love  her,  but 
oh  she  —  the  Senorita  Herlinda !     No,  no,  it  cannot  be ! " 

Ashley  smiled  drearily.  "  The  eagle  is  somethncs  found 
in  a  dove's  nest,"  he  said.  "  Ah,  with  such  a  mother 
what  a  glorious  woman  that  strange  defiant  creature  might 


be  lost.    With 
purpose  —  we 
cl  to  God,"  he 
Die  blight  upon 
tered,  I  would 
I  to  Rome." 
d  way,  slightly 
er  noble,  ever 
jr.    But  Leon? 
lid  indeed  mur- 
lead." 

andcring.     She 
iiile.     Gonzales 
f  Ramirez  with 
itense  emotions 
her  to  receive 
)se  that  perhaps 
md   had  faded. 
!  hope.     "  Her- 
jated  ngain  and 
;  child ! " 
)ed  the  hand  of 
,nd  led  IlerUnda 
)na  Isabel,  drew 
neck,  and  mur- 
her.     And  thus 
id  them.      The 
embodiment  of 


I 


he  said,  "  what 
_,  where  shall  we 
•ant  she  has  not 
n  he  held  over 
ly-sworn  hatred, 
ast  (jertain  that 

enlng.  "  What, 
I  love  her,  but 
it  cannot  be ! " 

somethncs  found 
such  a  mother 

it  creature  might 


CI/ATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


455 


have  become !  But  what  powers  for  good  have  been  de- 
based in  those  low  associations  among  which  she  was 
thrown ! " 

The  young  man  stopped,  remembering  Dona  Isabel ; 
but  she  had  moved  away.  vShe  was  already  at  tlie  door. 
Gonzales,  who  wab  returning  for  her,  led  her  silently  to 
the  carriage.  The  widow  who  had  been  with  Herlinda 
had  dismounted  and  joined  Chata  and  the  priest,  as  they 
issued  from  the  gloomy  chapel.  Tlie  poor  woman  looked 
confused  and  wretched ;  it  was  a  comfort  to  her  to  hear 
the  muttered  benediction  of  the  friar. 

Chata  mounted  the  sorrv  beast  on  which  she  had  come, 
despite  the  remonstrance  of  Aslile}'.  "  No,  no,  I  cannot 
bear  the  accusing  gaze  of  the  ISenorita  Ilerlinda,"  slie 
protested.  "  You,  Don  'Guardo,  know  who  1  am.  My 
place  is  at  Leon  Valle's  side,  not  here.  O  God,  would 
that  it  were  not  so !  " 

The  rain  had  ceased.  There  was  a  streak  of  dawn  in 
the  skj'.  The  road  lay  like  a  pale  yellow  serpent,  which 
gn  v  brighter  as  they  followed  its  sinuous  twinings  among 
the  hills.  There  was  a  slight  accident,  which  detained  the 
carriage  ;  but  Chata,  accompanied  by  Pepe,  —  who  liad  re- 
cognized her  with  amazement,  and  who  gave  her  a  brief 
account  of  all  that  had  happened  in  the  life  of  Chinita 
since  they  had  parted,  —  hastened  on  as  speedily  as  was 
possible  to  her  jaded  beast.  Just  at  the  dawn  she  found 
herself  entering  the  straggling  town ;  and  suddenly  the 
mass  of  verdure  beyond  a  broken  wall  which  thej'  were 
skirting,  and  over  which  she  was  gazing  with  eyes  as 
heavy  as  the  dripping  herbage,  sparkled  as  with  a  thou- 
sand diamonds.  The  sun  had  risen  ;  and  facing  it  —  his 
eyes  so  dazzled  that  the  figures  upon  the  roadway  were  to 
him  like  the  scattered  trees,  mere  black,  shapeless  masses 
—  was  the  object  of  her  dread,  yet  also  at  that  moment 
of  her  fondest  anguish  bloody  and  travel-stained  with  the 
marks  of  battle  and  liight  upon  him,  the  wreck  of  what 
she  had  last  seen  him.  « 

Filial  duty  and  womanly  pity  supplied  the  place  of  that 
love  which  she  could  not  conjure  even  then,  and  with  a 
cry  she  drew  rein  at  the  prostrate  gate  ;  and  to  the  amaze- 
ment of  Pepi'.  who  knew  nothing  of  the  relations  between 
the  young  girl  and  the  defeated  chieftain,  she  sprang  to 


13  \ 


:l 


I 


■ny 


456 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


'  !  : 


'Si 


III!-' 


f1 


the  gi'ound  and  rushed  to  the  embrace  of  the  hunted  man. 
Looking  back  she  saw  the  others  approaching,  and  sought 
to  repel  them  by  an  entreating  gesture.  Her  voice  was 
heard  in  warning;  but  Ramirez  heeded  it  no  more  than 
he  did  the  sound  of  wheels  and  the  tread  of  horses  on 
the  roadway.  He  had  known  of  late  such  strange  vicis- 
situdes and  such  unaccountable  experiences,  which  had 
been  so  unforeseen,  often  so  disastrous  yet  fleeting,  that 
they  seemed  the  phantasmagoria  of  a  frightful  dream. 
These  noises,  these  figures,  were  but  the  same  to  his 
stunned  senses.  But  this  girl  in  his  arms,  who  called  him 
father,  —  she  was  real  flesh  and  blood,  and  thrilling  with 
life.  He  clung  to  her  with  rapture ;  and  as  he  would 
have  done  in  a  dream,  he  saw  her  there  without  surprise, 
—  only  with  a  vague  bewilderment,  a  fear  that  she  too 
would  fade  away.  No !  She  clung  to  him  with  tears, 
as  though  seeking  to  protect  him  from  some  menaced 
danger. 

Ah,  he  understood:  this  man  who  had  reached  them 
was  the  American  who  had  accused  him  at  the  grave  of 
him  whom  he  had  murdered.  Great  God !  Had  beings 
of  this  world  and  the  other  combined  against  him  ?  There 
was  Pedro,  or  his  ghost ;  there  too  was  Herlinda !  Yes, 
though  it  was  years  since  he  had  seen  her,  and  then  only 
for  a  moment  in  her  lover's  arms,  he  knew  her  instantly. 

Ramirez  recoiled  before  her  glance.  His  arms  fell 
from  Chata.  The  released  nun,  who  had  not  known 
that  the  young  girl  had  been  of  their  company,  thrust 
her  aside,  then  caught  her  hand  and  looked  searchingly 
into  her  face.  Her  own  face  quivered  as  she  looked.  It 
grew  whiter  and  whiter  still,  as  Chata  raised  her  eyes  and 
returned  the  gaze. 

"  I  saw  you  from  the  convent  grate  —  at  El  Toro,"  said 
Herlinda,  breathlessly. 

Carmen's  face  brightened  like  that  of  one  who  solves  a 
joyful  mystery.     Cnata  sighed  deepl3\ 
»  "  Chata,"  cried  Ashlej',  who  divined  what  must  be  in 
the  mind  of  Herll..-^   ,  "  speak !     Tell  the  Sciiorita  that 
you  are  not  her  da-  guter.     Her  suspense  is  terrible  !  " 

But  Chata  could  not  utter  a  word.  Ramirez  broke  into 
a  laugh.  He  himself  heard  that  betrayal  of  his  over- 
strained nerves   with  a  shudder.      He  would  not  have 


T 
,-*• 


}  hunted  man. 
g,  and  sought 
ler  voice  was 
no  more  than 
of  horses  on 
strange  vicis- 
es,  which  had 
;  fleeting,  that 
ghtful  dream. 
2  same  to  his 
tvho  called  him 
I  thrilling  with 
1  as  he  would 
thout  surprise, 
ir  that  she  too 
im  with  tears, 
some  menaced 

reached  them 

it  the  grave  of 

!     Had  beings 

St  him?    There 

lerlinda !     Yes, 

and  then  only 
her  instantly. 

His  arras  fell 
lad  not  known 
ompany,  thrust 
ced  searchingly 
she  looked.  It 
ed  her  eyes  and 

i  El  Tore,"  said 

ne  who  solves  a 

hat  must  be  in 
Senorita  that 
s  terrible ! " 
nrez  broke  into 
al  of  his  ovcr- 
vould  not  have 


CHATA  AND   CHINITA. 


457 


laughed  had  his  will  served.  Why  should  he  laugh? 
Then  the  shame,  he  thought,  of  this  poor  Herlinda  had 
been  complete.  She  had  a  child ;  she  had  come  to  the 
avenger  of  her  shame  hoping  to  find  the  lost  proof  of  her 
frailty.  Even  his  sister  Dona  Isabel  was  crying  wofuUy, 
"Oh  Leon,  Leon,  is  it  thou?  Art  thou  the  Ramirez  my 
poor  Chinita  loved?  Oh,  in  pity  give  her  back  to  me !  I 
will  forgive  all  —  j'es,  even  Norberto's  death  —  if  thou 
wilt  give  Herlinda  her  child." 

"  You  are  all  mad  ! "  cried  Ramirez,  recalled  to  himself. 
"  What  know  I  of  Herhnda's  child,  or  even  that  she  ex- 
ists? I  only  know  that  this  is  mine,"  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  Chata,  —  "  she  of  whom  you  thought  to  cheat  me. 
Ah,  had  I  known  there  was  another  infant  to  claim  your 
secret  love,"  he  added  mockingly,  "  I  could  have  better 
disposed  of  my  own  !  " 

While  the  unrepentant  brother  of  Dona  Isabel  was  say- 
ing this,  Pedro  in  gruff  and  surly  accents  was  reminding 
hira  of  the  girl  who  had  stopped  him  upon  the  road  years 
before,  and  had  given  him  an  amulet.  Yes,  the  impa- 
tient listener  remembered  her ;  he  had  heard  her  name,  — 
Chinita ;  that  was  the  girl  of  whom  Rafael  had  spoken, 
she  who  had  been  the  foundling  of  the  gatekeeper.  A 
vision  of  the  unkempt,  witch-like  creature  who  had  startled 
)  is  horse,  as  she  stood  under  that  accursed  l  esquite-trce, 
rose  before  him.  Was  that  Herlinda's  child?  She  stood 
8ti!l  with  her  hand  upon  Chata,  gazing  upon  her  incredu- 
lously.    Ramirez  threw  it  off  in  sudden  passion. 

"Uncle  Leon,"  said  Herlinda  humbly,  hopelessly,  "  you 
killed  m}'^  husband.  Oh,  I  would  forgive  you  that,  could 
3-ou  give  me  my  child !  Oh,  when  I  saw  this  girl  here  —  " 
she  dropped  her  face  into  her  hands  and  wept. 

"  Shame  on  you !  "  cried  Ramirez.  The  sight  of 
woman's  tears  irritated  him,  and  Herhnda's  assertion  of 
her  marriage  made  blacker  still  a  deed  whose  silent, 
stealthy  consummation  had  ever  been  to  him  a  secret 
cause  of  shame.  "  What  though  I  killed  .your  lover,  was 
it  not  to  avenge  the  honor  of  the  Garcias?" 

"The  honor  of  those  you  had  disgraced!"  cried  the 
outraged  woman  sciornfull}",  —  "of  her  whose  life  yovi  had 
crushed !  No,  your  hand  was  ready  for  n.urder,  your 
heart  delighted  in  blood,  —  and  so  you  killed  my  love. 


m  'i^* 


h  ■,' 


458 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


without  a  word  of  warning ;  and  because  in  your  vile, 
cruel  heart  you  could  believe  no  woman  i>ure,  no  man 
just,  you  thus  brought  in  an  instant  desolation  and  ruin 
upon  me  !  "  Ramirez  slirank  before  tlie  indi'jjnant  pathos  of 
her  voice.  "Ah,"  she  added,  "  all,  all  this  I  would  for- 
give —  O  God,  have  I  not  prayed  to  thee  and  thy  saints 
for  grace  to  forgive?  —  if  I  could  but  behold  ray  child. 
They  tell  me  she  has  followed  3'ou,  —  one  saN's  because  of 
the  strange  infatuation  your  mad  career  presents  to  her ; 
another,  that  she  may  avenge  her  wrongs,  her  father's 
murder.  I  warn  you !  beware !  such  2.  girl  is  not  to  be 
scorned." 

"I  know  noihing  of  her,"  cried  Ramirca,  vehemently. 
"Here  is  your  mother  —  Pedro;  tlnjy  have  known  the 
girl,  they  should  render  you  an  account  of  her.  As  for 
me,  there  is  a  man  here  who  upot:  the  grave  of  him  I 
killed  declared  himself  his  avenger :  it  is  to  him  I  will 
answer  for  that  deed." 

Ashlev  Ward  involuntarilv  drew  his  sword,  eager  for 
the  offered  combat ;  but  Pedro  and  Gonzales  threw  them- 
selves between  the  two  men.  "  This  is  neither  the  time 
nor  tiic  place,"  exclaimed  Gonzales-  •  while  llerlinda  cried, 
"Do  not  touch  my  uncle  for  your  life!  My  mother,  my 
motli'jr ! " 

Doiia  istV  /I  had  indeed  thrown  herself  upon  her  knees 
before  the  i.>">  st,  and  frantically  imploreci  his  interposi- 
tion. As  he  raised  her  he  was  seen  to  speak ;  but  no  one 
heard  his  words,  for  shrill  female  voices  in  altercation 
added  to  the  confusion  of  the  moment,  and  every  eye  was 
turned  in  the  direction  whence  they  came. 

"  Let  me  go !  let  me  go !  I  will  bear  no  more !  I  will 
wait  no  longer !  He  will  escape.  Oh,  it  is  not  with  such 
weak  words  I  will  speak !  " 

Two  female  hgnres  issued  panting  from  the  covert,  —  it 
seemed  that  the  elder  woman  had  striven  to  hold  the 
other  buck,  but  the  j^ounger  had  triumphed.  Dona  Isa- 
bel uttered  a  cry  of  infinite  gratitude  and  joy.  Chata 
caught  and  held  the  girl  as  she  came.  "  Chinita !  thank 
God,"  she  cried,  "  30U  are  here  !  " 

Pedro  in  an  ecstasy  seized  the  robe  of  Herlinda. 
"  There,  there,"  he  cried,  "  is  your  child  !  your  beautiful 
child !  " 


in  your  vile, 
pure,  no  man 
ition  and  ruin 
jnant  pathos  of 
is  I  would  for- 
and  thy  saints 
liold  my  cliild. 
lays  because  of 
•esents  to  her ; 
s,  her  fatlier'a 
rl  is  not  to  be 

33,  vehemently, 
ive  known  the 
)f  her.  As  for 
JiSLVii  of  him  I 
s  to  him  1  will 

vrord,  eager  for 
les  threw  them- 
icither  the  time 
Ilerlinda  cried, 
My  mother,  my 

upon  her  knees 
[1  liis  interposi- 
ak ;  but  no  one 
in  altercation 
d  every  eye  was 

10  more !  I  will 
s  not  with  such 

ihe  covert,  —  it 

m   to    hold   the 

ed.     Dona  Isa- 

ud  joy.     Cliata 

Chinita!  thank 


D 


of    Herlinda. 
your  beautiful 


CI/ATA  AND  CHINITA. 


459 


*'  Yes ! "  cried  Chinita  in  mad  excitement  which  only 
burning  words  could  relieve.  Not  then  could  she  pause 
for  fond  greetings  or  reverent  tears  ;  the  sight  of  Ramirez 
seemed  at  once  to  fire  yet  absorb  her  wildest  passions. 
She  sprang  toward  him,  as  one  may  suppose  the  lion's 
whelp  faces  a  tiger  that  in  some  fierce  struggle  has  filled 
the  air  with  the  scent  of  blood.  The  very  aroma  arouses 
and  maddens  its  kindred  nature.  With  an  outburst  of 
eloquence  which  like  arrows  tipped  with  venom  seemed 
to  sting  and  paralyze  the  object  upon  which  the}'  were 
directed,  she  assailed  Ramirez  with  the  story  of  his  crimes ; 
and  separated  from  the  picturesque  arid  daring  events  that 
had  accompanied  and  disguised  them,  and  told  with  dram- 
atic eloquence  and  vivid  anger,  they  thrilled  every  listener 
with  shuddering  abhorrence  and  dismay.  Blackest-  of  all, 
she  pictured  the  murder  of  John  Ashley.  Ramirez  himself 
seemed  visibly  to  shrink  and  wither  before  her  scathing 
words,  while  Herlinda  pressed  her  hands  over  her  ears, 
entreating  her  to  cease.  The  agonized  woman  could  not 
endure  the  vivid  rendition,  for  the  girl  unconsciously  acted 
out,  as  she  conceived,  the  scene  of  midnight  murder. 

From  the  moment  of  Chinita's  appearance,  Ramiroz 
had  seemed  overwhelmed  as  by  the  sight  of  some  vki- 
earthly  being ;  and  while  she  spoke  his  eyes  riveted  their- 
selves  upon  her,  his  jaw  fell,  liis  countenance  took  the  bcc' 
v.f  death.  Suddenly  the  girl  burst  into  wild  sobs  t  ud 
tears.  Her  rage  was  spent.  "  Go,  go !  "  she  said.  - 
"  you  who  have  cursed  my  life,  you  who  killed  my  father, 
you  who  condemned  my  mother  to  a  convent  and  me  t<> 
a  beggar's  life;  for  was  it  strange  tliey  cast  me  out, 
hoping  I  should  die  ?  And  so  I  should  have  done  but  for 
Pedro —  Fiend,  to  pursue  him  with  devilish  tortures  after 
so  many  years  !  Oh  !  that  it  was  which  brought  my  hate 
upon  you.  Ah,  I  had  loved  you  from  a  child,  —  not  with 
a  woman's  fancy,  but  as  though  the  thought  of  you  were 
the  very  soul  that  vvr^s  born  with  me.  Of  you  I  thought, 
for  you  I  prayed  —  was  it  not  so,  Chata  ?  It  was  I  who 
gave  you  the  anuilet  they  said  would  insure  life  and  for- 
tune. I  planned  and  schemed  to  give  you  wealth  and 
power.  Ah,  even  when  I  knew  the  cursed  wrong  you  had 
done  me,  I  <:ould  not  believe,  I  couhl  not  realize  ;  that 
murdertid  man  had  been  dead  so  long  he  seemed  of  an- 


i^ 


m- 


ti": 


If 

,  f 


400 


CIIATA  AND  CHINITA. 


other  world,  another  time,  —  he  seemed  nothing  to  me. 
But  the  torture  ot"  Pedro,  —  ah,  that  was  real,  tiiat  was 
of  my  life  ;  it  maddened  me.  Ah !  ah  !  ah  !  it  brought 
your  downfall.  You  have  wondered  how  your  skill,  your 
well-laid  plans,  your  valor,  all  have  failed  you.  It  was 
because  of  me  !  because  of  us  !  " 

Chinita  turned  and  indicated  her  companion  with  a  ges- 
ture of  her  hand.  She  saw  then  what  had  riveted  tlie  gaze 
of  Ramirez,  and  rather  tlian  lier  words  had  held  each  wit- 
ness dumb.  Dolores — her  face  kindled  into  fictitious  youtli, 
her  beautiful  eyes  gleaming  with  a  flame  that  seemed  to 
scatlie  —  had  drawn  from  her  brows  the  kerchief  she  had 
worn.  The  act  had  revealed  a  wondrous  mass  of  brown 
hair,  with  the  russet  tinge  of  the  chestnut,  gleaming  in 
the  sunlight  with  threads  and  spirals  of  gold.  The  two 
heads,  that  of  Chinita  and  of  the  woman,  seemed  to  have 
been  modelled  the  one  from  the  other,  so  exact  was  their 
form,  and  so  similar  the  texture  and  color  and  peculiar 
giovvtii  of  the  marvellous  wealth  of  curls  that  crowned 
them  both. 

Chinita  drew  back  with  dilated  ej'es,  speechless  with 
the  overwhelming  horror  of  conviction.  Chata  would 
have  clasped  her  in  her  arms,  but  she  drew  herself  away. 
In  the  woman  whose  wild  laugh  rang  upon  the  air  Chata 
rr'cognized  the  one  wiio  had  thrown  herself  before  the 
horse  of  Ramirez,  and  who  had  lain  a  bruised  and 
sliameful  figure  upon  the  convent  steps  at  El  Toro. 

There  was  a  moment  of  profound  silence.  Even  the 
sultry  air  seemed  waiting,  as  though  for  the  thunderclap 
that  follows  tlie  lightning  flash. 

"  Ah,  Loon  Vallc !  you  know  now  who  accuses  you," 
cried  the  woman.  "Oh,  is  not  this  a  sweet  revenge,  to 
curse  you  by  the  lips  of  your  own  child,  —  the  clul(l  you 
rol)bod  me  of?  Wliat!  you  thought  thtt  your  child!" 
siio  pointed  with  ineffable  contempt  to  Chata,  who  in  tiie 
overwhelming  excitement  of  the  moment  clung  to  the  pal- 
lid and  tre.'nt)ling  Ilerlinda.  "  Bah  I  what  is  she  to  tlie 
beautiful  being  I  bore  you, —  into  whose  soul  was  infused 
the  idolatrous  love  that  had  lieen  wrested  from  my  heart, 
the  love  tliat  liad  been  my  ruin  ?  Ah,  such  love  dies  hard  ! 
It  lived  again  in  her,  — it  lived  in  her  heart  for  you.  Be- 
cause of  it  I  dartd  not  claim  her,  thougli  I  knew  her  the 


nothing  to  mo. 
real,  that  was 
ah !  it  brouglit 
>'our  sliill,  your 
I  you.     It  was 

lion  with  a  gca- 
iveted  the  gaze 
I  held  cacli  wit- 
fictitious  youtli, 
tliat  seemed  to 
srchief  she  had 
mass  of  brown 
it,  gleaming  in 
jold.  The  two 
jeemed  to  liavc 
exact  was  their 
)r  and  peculiar 
J  that  crowned 


I 


apccchless  with 
Chata  would 
herself  away, 
n  the  air  Chata 
self  before  the 
bruised  and 
El  Toro. 
►ce.  Even  the 
he  thunderclap 

accuses  you," 

et  revenge,  to 

-the  child  you 

t  your  child  !  " 

ata,  who  in  the 

ung  to  the  pnl- 

,  is  she  to  the 

ul  was  infused 

from  ray  heart, 

love  dies  hard ! 

t  for  you.     Be- 

knew  her  the 


CHATA   AND   CIIINITA. 


401 


moment  my  ej'cs  fell  upon  her,  —  3'cs,  as  j'ou  know  her 
now.  In  whom  but  in  our  child  could  be  reproduced  this 
wonderful  wealth  of  hair  you  used  to  call  the  siren's  dowtir? 
In  whom  but  in  our  child  could  reappear  your  own  face, 
glorified,  masked,  by  woman's  softness?  Ah,  Dona  Isabel 
and  this  I'edro  were  deceived  ;  they  thought  it  was  the 
beauty  of  Ilerlinda  that  they  saw.  But  1  knew  it  to  be 
yours.  Ah,  in  all  these  weeks  I  iiave  taught  your  child 
how  to  hate  you ;  I  have  plucked  out  fliat  root  of  love ; 
1  have  made  more  real  the  fancied  wrongs  of  which  she 
has  accused  3'ou.  Trifies  !  trilles  !  trifies  all !  —  the  mur- 
der of  a  supi)osed  father.^  the  torture  of  an  old  man,  the 
death  of  a  base  lover,  —  yes,  that  Kuiz  to  whom  from  her 
birth  you  destined  her.  But  I,  —  1  cry  to  you  give  back 
my  innocence !  give  back  my"  ruined  life !  give  back  my 
father,  who  by  your  act  was  killed  as  surely  as  though 
your  hand  had  struck  the  blow  !  give  me  the  young  years 
of  my  daughter's  life,  those  she  s(|uandered  a  beggar  at 
your  sister's  gate!  Ah,  you  cannot,  you  cannot!  But 
I,  —  I  can  avenge  my  wrongs  and  hers." 

Quick  as  a  Hash  the  infuriate  woman  levelled  a  pistol. 
Quick  as  an  answering  flash  Chinita  threw  herself  before 
her  and  sprang  to  her  father's  breast.  A  second  shot 
following  so  quickly  on  the  first  that  they  seemed  as 
one,  a  cry  of  agon}',  a  scream  of  madness,  the  cries  of 
woinen,  the  hoarse  voices  of  men,  made  the  garden  a 
pandemonium  of  hideous  sounds.  The  desperate  woman, 
whose  bullet  had  touched  its  mark  harmlessly  to  Ran*irez 
through  the  slender  form  of  Chinita,  fied  madl}'.  Ramirez, 
scarce  conscious  whether  the  blood  which  streamed  over 
him  was  that  of  his  daughter  or  his  own,  bore  the  wounded 
girl  through  the  throng  that  i)resHed  him,  wildly  calling 
upon  his  child, — alas,  alas!  iiis  but  for  the  brief  span 
during  which  her  warm  J'oung  blooil  should  leap  from  the 
deadly  puncture  in  her  breast ! 

Herlinda,  the  first  to  regain  self-control  even  amid  tne 
intense  revulsion  of  feeling  through  which  she  had  almost 
instantaneously  passed,  tore  into  .siu-eds  some  porlion  of 
her  garments  and  strove  to  stanch  the  wound ;  but  in 
vain.  Chinita,  with  a  smile  which  succeeded  her  first 
wild  cry  and  stare  of  horror,  motioned  her  away.  She 
pressed  her  own  fingers  on  the  wound,  raisiiig  her  head 


j 


4G2 


CIIATA  AND  CHINITA. 


'^"»i.>! 


Elft!|.,i 


from  the  arm  of  Ramirez  to  say,  "I  saved  you,  I  saved 
3'ou  !  just  as  1  used  to  think  I  would  do.  Ah,  I  could 
not  hato  you, — no,  no!  though  I  tried.  And  she  could 
not  root  out  my  love,  —  it  lives  here  still."  She  pressed 
her  hand  still  tighter  on  the  wound.  "My  father!  my 
lather !  " 

The  face  of  the  hardened  man  contracted  in  agony. 
He  turned  toward  Dona  Jsabel  and  Ilerlinda  with  a  heart- 
rending cry.  "  You  are  avenged,  —  both,  both,  avenged ! 
O  my  God !  You  never  can  have  known  such  agony  as 
this.  Oh  wretched  man  that  I  am,  to  see  the  sum  of  all 
my  crimes  cancelled  by  this  terrible  reprisal !  " 

The  hand  of  the  dying  girl  fell  from  its  place.  Chata 
knelt  and  placed  her  own  with  desperate  energy  against 
the  fatal  wound.  Chinita  smiled  and  faintly  kissed  her. 
*'  My  dream  has  come  true,"  she  said.  "  Ah,  when  they 
pity  me  you  will  say,  '  She  always  longed  to  die  for  him.' 
Tell  them  it  was  best  that  I  should  die,  I  loved  him  so. 
Death  wipes  out  ever^'  wrong.     He  is  my  father ! " 

Ramirez  groaned.  Great  drops  of  sweat  stood  on  his 
brow.  He  strove  still  to  support  her ;  but  Gonzales  on 
the  one  side  and  Ashley  on  the  otlier  bore  her  weight. 

By  this  time  the  garden  was  i'uU  of  people.  A  man 
forced  his  way  through  the  throng. 

"  Reyes !  Reyes  !  "  cried  Ramirez,  "  Villain,  did  j'ou  not 
as  I  commanded  give  my  child  to  Isabel,  my  sister;  or 
was  yours  the  accursed  hand  that  brought  her  to  this 
pass  ?  " 

Reyes  gazed  at  the  dying  girl  in  horror.  A  suspicion 
of  the  misapprehension  under  which  Ramirez  had  acted, 
and  which  had  confirmed  Ruiz  in  his  treachery,  had 
haunted  him  for  days,  since  in  a  remote  village  he  had 
mot  the  administrador  of  Trcs  Hermanos  and  heard  from 
him  the  tale  of  the  carrying  away  of  Chata.  He  had 
iiastened  toward  Las  Parras  with  Don  Rafael  and  his 
mother,  bent  on  warning  Ramirez  and  confessing  the  wild 
carelessness  with  which  he  had  disposed  of  the  child  who 
had  been  confided  to  him,  and  who  he  had  supposed  until 
his  meeting  with  Chinita  had  indirectly  reached  the  peison 
to  whom  she  was  destined.  It  had  not  been  possible  for 
him  —  a  man  in  whom  the  paternal  instinct  had  never 
dwelt  —  to  imagine  it  the  o.ie  virtue  in  the  callous,  fierce. 


CI/ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


4G3 


I  you,  I  saved 
Ab,  I  could 

\.nd  she  could 
She  pressed 

ly  father  1  my 

;ted  in  agony, 
a  with  a  heart- 
Doth,  avenged  I 
such  agony  as 
the  sum  of  all 
I!" 

1  place.  Chata 
energy  against 
itly  kissed  her. 
Ah,  when  they 
to  die  for  him.' 
1  loved  him  so. 
ather  1 " 

it  stood  on  his 
lit  Gonzales  on 
her  weight, 
eople.    A  man 

ain,  did  you  not 
,  my  sister;  or 
rht  her  to  this 

♦.     A  suspicion 

irez  had  acted, 

treachery,   had 

village  he  had 

ind  heard  from 

uita.      He  had 

Rafael  and  his 

essing  the  wild 

f  the  child  who 

supposed  until 
jhcd  the  peison 
?en  possible  for 
,inct  had  never 

callous,  fierce. 


and  unscrupulous  Ramirez.  But  with  this  bleeding,  dying 
figure  in  his  arms  Ramirez  seemed  transformed.  Reyes 
fell  on  his  knees. 

"  Ah,  had  you  but  told  mo  the  whole  truth!"  sighed 
the  dying  girl.  "  A  Garcia  you  said  I  Ah,  1  should  have 
been  prouder  to  be  his  daughter  than  a  thousand  times 
Garcia ! " 

She  turned  her  head,  and  her  eyes  fell  on  Ashley's  face 
and  rested  there.  A  soft,  strange  illumination  animated 
her  own,  as  though  from  some  inward  light  just  kindled. 
"  Adios  !  Adios  ! "  she  murnuu'ed.  "  Ah,  you  were  noble, 
generous !  yet  you  thought  I  did  not  feel,  that  I  did  not 
understand.  Ah,  could  I  live,  you  should  see !  But  this 
is  best ;  you  will  never  need  trouble  now  for  Chinita.  No, 
no,  no  !  do  not  grieve  —  Ah,  that  might  make  me  weak  ! 
I  would  not —  find  it  —  hard  —  to  die." 

She  looked  at  him  long  and  fixedly, — perhaps  to  her 
as  to  Ashley  a  secret  as  sacred  as  it  was  precious,  was 
then  revealed.  A  blueness  crept  around  her  mouth,  a 
glaze  over  her  beautiful  eyes.  "  No  wonder  that  she 
loved  the  \merican ! "  she  whispered  at  length,  — 
dreamil}',  as  though  her  mind  wandered  to  the  past.  The 
words  sank  like  lead  in  Ashley's  heart,  to  be  forgotten 
never,  never  I 

After  a  moment  the  lips  of  the  dying  girl  moved  in 
prayer.  The  priest,  who  had  from  time  to  time  endeavored 
to  control  an  emotion  which  seemed  a  personal  rather  than 
a  merely  sympathetic  grief,  bent  over  her,  and  all  present 
fell  on  their  knees.  Chinita  whispered  in  his  car  a  few 
words,  and  received  absolution  with  a  smile  of  perfect 
peace.  Then  began  the  solemn  litany  for  the  departing 
soul ;  Chinita  was  evidently  sinking  rapidl}'. 

Pedro  had  fallen  on  his  knees  before  her,  in  grief  too 
deep  for  words.  Pepe  from  behind  him  gazed  into  her 
glazing  eyes  with  stoical  despair.  Suddenly  she  smiled, 
and  laying  her  arm  over  Pedro's  shoulder,  extended  her 
blood-stained  hand,  looking  at  Pepe  with  the  prett}',  win- 
ning, disdainful  smile  of  old,  and  said  faintly,  though 
proudly,  "  I  am  the  daughter  of  the  Seiior  General.  Lead 
me,  Pepe,  —  lead  me.    I  am  tired  !  " 

And  thus  with  her  arm  around  him  who  had  been  so 
blindly  faithful,  and  with  her  hand  in  that  of  the  peasant 


4G4 


C II ATA   AND   CHINITA. 


youth  who  throuyih  life  Imd  boon  her  adoring  slave,  with 
one  long  sigh,  whioii  left  her  lips  smiling  as  it  passed, 
Chinita  fell  asleep,  —resting  forever  from  the  '^assion  and 
turmoil  of  life. 

"  Peace,  peace,  peace  !  "  reiterated  the  soletj:^.  vclce  of 
the  priest,  in  assurance,  in  warning,  in  invocation.  It 
penetrated  hearts  to  which  the  very  word  had  seemed 
a  mockery.  The  hardest,  the  most  reprobate,  the  haugh- 
tiest, the  most  sorrowful,  repeated  it  with  a  sob.  Rami- 
rez on  his  kriees,  crushed  to  the  earth,  heard  it  as  the 
cry  of  a  despairing  augel.  Where  for  him  could  peace  be 
found  ? 


\l  I  j  '  \ 


<■;■'•  r 


f'l.f 


ng  slave,  with 

as  it  passed, 

ho  "»assiou  and 

olev!'.'.  v'jice  of 
invocation.  It 
■d  had  scenu'd 
ate,  the  haugli- 

a  sob.  Ratni- 
leard   it  as  tbe 

could  peace  be 


XLVII. 

When  Pedro  Gomez  rose  fVom  his  knees  he  held  in  his 
hand  a  little  square  reliquary  of  faded  blue.  The  string 
from  which  it  had  hung  had  been  pierced  by  the  fatal  bul- 
let, and  it  had  dropped  unheeded  from  Chinita's  neck. 

Reverent  hands  bore  the  corpse  into  the  desolate  house  ; 
while  Ramirez,  or  Leon  Valle,  —  for  by  his  true  name  ho 
was  ever  after  called,  —  rising  at  the  entreaty  of  his  sister, 
stood  like  one  bereft  of  sense  or  movement.  Suddenly 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  gatekeeper's  arm  and  muttered 
hoarsely,  "  Kill  me  Pedro !  See,  I  have  no  sword.  If 
thou  wilt  not  for  vengeance,  do  it  for  love.  You  loved 
,her,  —  for  her  sake  end  my  misery  1 " 

Pedro  laid  the  reliquary  in  his  hand.  *'  If  it  should  not 
be  true?  "  he  said  doggedly  of  the  faded  silk.  "  Oh,  was 
it  for  this  I  bore  so  many  years  the  mocking  silence  of 
Doila  Feliz  and  m}'^  mistress?  No,  no!  it  cannot  be. 
Open  this.  'Twas  on  her  bosom  when  she  came  into 
my  hands.  The  niSa  Herlinda  promised  me  a  token.  It 
will  be  found  there,  —  there  in  the  blessed  reliquary. 
Fool  that  I  was  to  think  it  had  nothing  to  declare  to  me. 
Ah,  how  your  hands  shake !  Well,  't  is  but  a  moment's 
work." 

The  gatekeeper  ripped  the  sewed  edges  with  his  dagger's 
point  quickly,  desperately,  as  though  he  were  profaning 
a  sacred  thing,  —  then  blankl;,  looked  at  the  worthless 
trifles  on  his  palm.  Just  a  tiny  curl  of  brown  and  gold, 
and  the  eye-tooth  of  some  animal,  a  fancied  charm  against 
infantile  diseases,  both  wrapped  in  a  paper  scrawle^'  with 
a  faintly-written  prayer. 

Pedro  was  convinced.  Till  then  he  had  clung  to  the 
belief  that  had  given  to  his  clownish  life  the  elements  of 
heroism,  of  love  and  sacrifice.  Chinita  the  beautiful,  the 
beloved,  was  dead  —  dead;  but  to  his  soul  there  came  a 
bereavement  far  more  terrible  than  that  of  death.    He 

30 


&. 


•^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


l;^  |2.8 

|50     '''^™ 


2.5 


2.2 


III  1.8 


1-25      1.4      1.6 

—     =    »» 

^ 6"     

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WiST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


466 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


!'(.   I- 


ii 


i 

ii 


■-«>■ 

'1: 


raised  his  glazing  eyes  appealingly,  hopelessly.  Ah, 
there  was  Dona  Feliz,  —  she  whom  all  these  years  he 
had  accused  as  the  hard,  unpitylng  witness  of  the  degra- 
dation of  Herlinda's  child !  and  of  her  Dona  Isabel  with 
sobs  was  entreating  brokenly  in  God's  name  some  news  of 
the  charge  she  had  received  j'^ears  before.  Pedro  listened 
with  a  jealous  eagerness,  which  the  involuntary  cry  ol 
Chata,  interrupting  for  a  moment  the  answering  voice  of 
Doiia  Feliz,  made  intolerable.  "Mother  of  God!"  he 
cried  at  length,  "it  was  Dofia  Feliz  then  who  guarded 
Herlinda's  child!" 

"  O  false,  cruel  Feliz !  why  did  you  deceive  me? "  cried 
Dona  Isabel.  "Why  did  you  suffer  me  to  believe  the 
gatekeeper's  foundling  was  of  my  own  flesh  and  blood? 
Ah,  God,  so  she  was !  It  was  the  beauty  of  my  mother 
that  deceived  me ;  it  was  repeated  in  the  offspring  of  Leon, 
as  it  could  never  be  in  that  of  the  American.  Ah,  it  was 
for  that  I  loved  Chinita  with  such  passionate  tenderness 
and  remorse!  Oh,  why  did  you  suffer  it?  Why  give 
me  no  warning?  And  now  Chinita  is  dead,  and  my 
daughter  cries  to  me  for  her  child,  and  I  cannot  answer 
her." 

"Did  I  not  warn  you  at  this  gate?"  responded  Dofia 
Feliz,  "  that  the  day  would  come  when  you  would  bitterly 
repent  the  words  you  uttered ;  when  you  bade  me  take  and 
hide  the  babe  even  from  your  knowledge,  —  never  to  men- 
tion her  whether  living  or  dead,  that  to  you  it  might  be  as 
though  she  had  never  existed  ?  Have  I  not  obeyed  your 
Jnandate?  Ay,  even  when  my  heart  bled  because  I  saw 
the  agony,  the  delusion  under  which  you  labored,  I  have 
suffered  with  you,  but  I  have  beien  faithful."         • 

Doiia  Isabel  bent  her  head  in  speechless  woe.  For  her 
there  might  not  be  even  the  poor  consolation  of  reproach. 
Yet  she  murmured,  "  In  pity,  where  is  Herlinda's  child?" 

"  She  is  here.  Thank  God  she  is  here  1 "  replied  Doiia 
Feliz,  —  this  girl  whom  you  have  believed  to  be  the  daugh- 
ter of  my  son.  "  Weeks  ago  your  brother,  Leon  Valle, 
reft  her 'from  us,  believing  her  his  own.  Only  by  re- 
vealing the  secret  We  had  sworn  to  keep  could  Rafael 
have  saved  her.  Ah,  God  knows  I  Perhaps  at  the  last 
moment,  when  hastening  from  the  strong  room  she  threw 
herself  into  the  power  of  the  ravisher  that  she  might  save 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


467 


pelessly.  Ah, 
these  years  he 
>s  of  the  degra- 
afia  Isabel  with 
le  some  news  ol 

Pedro  listened 
aluntary  cry  ol 
wering  voice  of 

of  Godl"  he 
n  who  guarded 

Bive  me?"  cried 
s  to  believe  the 
lesh  and  blood? 
ty  of  my  mother 
flfspring  of  Leon, 
can.  Ah,  it  was 
mate  tenderness 
it?  Why  give 
\  dead,  and  my 
I  cannot  answer 

responded  Dofia 
on  would  bitterly 
lade  me  take  and 
—  never  to  men- 
ou  it  might  be  as 
not  obeyed  your 
because  I  saw 
I  labored,  I  have 

3S  woe.  For  her 
tion  of  reproach, 
erlinda's  child?" 
! "  replied  Dofia 
to  be  the  daugh- 
her,  Leon  Valle, 
Only  by  re- 
ep  could  Rafael 
irhaps  at  the  last 
room  she  threw 
it  she  might  save 


her  foster-father  from  death,  then  perhaps  his  will  might 
have  failed  ;  but  he  was  speechless.  I  have  been  ill ;  yes, 
near  to  death,"  —  her  haggard  face,  her  sunken  eyes,  her 
wasted  figure  attested  that,  —  '*  yet  we  sought  her  far  and 
near.  Until  last  night  we  had  no  tidings.  A  rough  soldier 
listened  in  the  inn  to  the  tale  we  everywhere  proclaimed. 
He  came  to  me  secretly ;  '  Senora,'  he  said,  '  tho  girl  you 
seek  is  perhaps  in  the  house  of  Dona  Carmen.  Ramirez 
himself  is  deceived.'  This  was  the  first  stage  of  our  route 
to  Guanapila.  We  need  go  no  farther ;  for  standing  there, 
Herlinda,  with  Carmen,  is  your  child." 

Dona  Feliz  broke  into  sobs,  sinking  weak  as  a  child 
into  the  arms  of  Don  Rafael.    "  The  struggle  is  over,"  she 


said  to  him ;   '"  our  task  is  accomplished,  the  long  dis- 
simulation is  ended ! " 

Herlinda  and  Chata  had  not  needed  the  conclusion  of 
the  brief  words  of  Dofia  Feliz ;  thej'^  had  clasped  each 
other  in  a  rapturous  embrace.  But  the  sobs  of  the  dis- 
tressed lady  recalled  them  from  their  joy,  and  hastening 
to  her  side  they  poured  out  in  fervent  gratitude  such 
words  as.  seemed  to  repay  to  her  sensitive  heart  its  long 
years  of  devotion  as  truly  as  though  each  word  had  been 
a  priceless  jewel. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Dona  Feliz,  "  all,  all  is  nothing  to  merit 
the  happiness  of  this  hour.  It  is  the  poor  Pedro,  he  whose 
matchless  devotion  mocked  my  poor  work,  who  is  worthy 
of  such  words  as  these.  Ah,  my  heart  bled  for  him,  but 
I  could  not,  dared  not  speak." 

"Oh  foolish  unreasoning  girl  that  I  was  so  to  bind 
you ! "  cried  Herlinda.  She  turned  to  speak  to  Pedro, 
but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  There  was  a  movement 
among  the  villagers,  who,  repulsed  from  the  windows  of 
the  house  by  the  Soldiers,  began  to  disperse,  when  the 
voice  of  the  priest  stopped  them. 

"  Listen,  friends,"  he  said.  "  This  has  been  a  dread 
and  fearful  hour,  an  hour  to  try  the  souls  of  men.  I  am 
old,  yet  never  have  I  known  such  anguish  as  this  daj'^  has 
brought  to  me.  Some  sixteen  years  ago,  a  stranger  in  this 
land,  ignorant  of  its  language  and  customs,  I  came  to  this 
village  with  a  younf^  American  whom  I  met.  He  was  a 
handsome  youth  an  i  won  my  heart,  —  a  warm,  Irish  heart 
that  often  led  me  contrary  to  my  judgment.    The  Amor- 


468 


CHATA   AND  CHINITA. 


m 


If  ' 


ican  told  me  that  here  his  love  was  staying.  I  laughed  at 
him  for  fixing  his  heart  upon  some  brown-skinned,  dark- 
eyed  peasant  girl.  He  did  not  contradict  me,  but  bade 
me  be  ready  in  the  early  morning  to  wed  him  to  the  lovely 
object  of  his  youthful  passion.  I  remonstrated,  yet  was 
glad  to  serve  him.  Though  no  priest  lived  here,  the  little 
church  was  open ;  the  people  were  glad  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  hear  Mass.  Just  before  it  began,  John  Ashley 
and  Herlinda  Garcia  were  married.  As  she  for  a  moment 
loosened  the  reboso  she  wore  to  make  the  necessary  re- 
sponses, I  caught  a  glimpse  of*a  face  that  led  me  to  sus- 
pect it  was  no  simple  peasant  who  stood  before  me.  Yet 
it  was  only  in  p,fter  years,  when  the  requirements  of  the 
law  and  the  customs  unalterable  as  law  among  the  differ- 
ent castes  existing  in  your  land  became  known  to  me, 
that  I  remembered  with  disquiet  the  marriage  I  had  cele- 
brated here.  I  was  a  missionary  among  the  tribes  of 
Northern  Indians,  doing  good  work.  I  strove  to  assure 
myself  that,  irregular  as  I  knew  the  marriage  to  be,  —  con- 
tracted in  secret,  unknown  to  and  probably  against  the 
consent  of  the  young  girl's  parents,  in  a  language  unintel- 
ligible to  the  few  witnesses,  —  the  parties  were  probably 
living  in  amity,  satisfied,  as  surely  God  and  man  might 
be,  with  a  marriage  which  only  the  quibbles  of  the  law 
made  disputable.  Yet  I  could  not  be  at  ease ;  a  voice 
seemed  calling  me  hither.  Alas,  alas !  I  came  but  to  wit- 
ness the  consummation  of  the  tragedy  begun  years,  years 
ago,  —  a  tragedy,  the  direct  outcome  of  my  fatal  error. 
But  I  will  atone.  I  will  go  — would  to  God  in  pen- 
ance it  might  be  upon  my  knees  —  to  the  Holy  Father 
in  Rome,  and  pray  him  to  ratify  the  marriage.  Doiia 
Herlinda  Garcia,  pure  in  name  as  in  deed,  shall  give 
a  spotless  name  to  the  child  of  her  virtuous  love ! " 

The  old  monk  ceased ;  tremblingly  he  wiped  away  his 
tears.  "  Pardon,  pardon  !  "  he  murmured  to  Herlinda. 
*'  Oh  my  daughter,  how  you  have  euflered  !  But  daughter, 
the  certificate  I  gave,  —  had  you  not  the  paper?  That, 
however  subject  to  cavil,  would  have  declared  your 
purity." 

"  Ah,  a  paper !  "  cried  Herlinda.  "  I  have  thought  of 
it  a  thousand  times.  It  was  in  English.  I  thought  it  was 
a  blessed  prayer,  though  John  told  me  to  treasure  it  as  my 


r-A 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


469 


I  laughed  at 
ikinned,  dark- 
me,  but,  bade 
1  to  the  lovely 
•ated,  j^et  was 
bere,  the  little 
[)f  the  oppor- 
,  John  Ashley 
for  a  moment 
necessary  re- 
led  me  to  sus- 
sfore  me.    Yet 
rements  of  the 
long  the  differ- 
known  to  me, 
ige  I  had  cele- 
;  the  tribes  of 
;rove  to  assure 
jetobe, — con- 
)ly  against  the 
nguage  unintel- 
were  probably 
md  man  might 
)les  of  the  law 
ease;  a  voice 
ame  but  to  wit- 
un  years,  years 
my  fatal  error. 
5  God  in  pen- 
le  Holy  Father 
arriage.    Doiia 
eed,  shall  give 
lous  love ! " 
wiped  away  his 
"  to  Herlinda. 
But  daughter, 
paper?    That, 
declared   your 

have  thought  of 
I  thought  it  was 
reasure  it  as  my 


d 


life ;  that  was  why  I  sewed  it  in  the  reliquary  I  placed 
about  my  baby's  neck." 

With  a  cry  Chata  drew  forth  the  tiny  bag,  almost  the 
counterpart  of  that  poor  Chinita  had  worn,  and  the  sight 
of  which  had  confirmed  the  mistake  of  Pedro,  —  on  such 
slight  things  hangs  fate !  She  thought  of  how  often  slie 
and  Chinita  had  compared  them  when  children,  laughingly 
proposing  to  exchange  or  open  them,  yet  ever  shrinking 
from  tampering  with  them  in  superstitious  awe.  Pedro, 
who  had  returned,  snatched  it  from  her  hand,  —  the  act 
irresistible.  As  he  opened  it  with  his  dagger^s  point,  a 
filigree  earring  fell  into  his  palm.  He  groaned  and  turned 
away. 

Herlinda  caught  from  his  hand  a  tattered  paper. 
"  Read,  read ! "  she  cried  to  Ashley.  "  See  that  he  was 
noble,  true  as  you  have  said !     He  was  my  husband !  " 

The  proof  attested  by  the  signature  of  the  long  dead 
Mademoiselle  La  Croix,  and  that  of  the  living  priest,  was 
of  the  simplest,  the  most  eiHcient,  and  all  these  years 
had  been  preserved  by  the  piety  or  superstition  of  the 
child  to  whom  it  had  been  confided,  and  who,  had  she  but 
known  it,  had  so  vital  an  interest  in  its  discovery.  Chata 
gazed  at  the  naper  in  blank  amaze.  Around  her  we?'e 
men  and  women  giving  thanks  to  God  and  his  saints.  At 
th  j!  knees  of  Herlinda  was  her  uncle  Leon  Valle  and  Dona 
Isabel  her  mother. 

Ashley  Ward  was  the  first  to  break  the  spell.  He  took 
Herlii Ida's  hand.  "  Remember,  here  is  a  man  who  never 
doubted  you,"  he  said. 

"  And  here  one  who  would  have  died  for  you! "  said 
Gonzales. 

In  a  single  phrase  each  had  expressed  the  loyalt}'^  of  the 
nation  he  represented,  —  Ashley,  that  of  faith  in  man's 
honor  and  woman's  chastit}' ;  Gonzales,  the  tenacious  love 
that  distrust  might  change  to  jealous  madness,  but  which 
it  could  never  destroy. 

Within  a  few  hours  a  sad  and  solemn  funeral  cortege  set 
forth  from  Las  Pan-as,  bearing  all  that  was  mortal  of  the 
beautiful  Chinita.  Not  far  from  the  limits  of  the  town 
Ashley  and  Gonzales  came  upon  a  startling  and  awful 
sight,  —  a  woman  lay  dead  upon  the  road,  her  garments 


470 


CHATA  AND  CHINITA. 


sodden,  her  beautiful  hair  defiled  by  the  mud  of  the  high- 
way. She  had  fallen  face  downward.  As  though  some 
evil  omen  warned  him,  Leon  Valle  hastening  from  the 
rear  anticipated  them  in  raising  the  corpse. 

It  was  that  of  the  maddened  Dolores.  It  had  needed 
no  weapon  to  reach  her  heart;  despair  and  agony  had 
summoned  to  her  destruction  the  swift  and  fatal  malady 
that  had  killed  her  father.  Those  who  saw  her,  he  wh  j 
pressed  her  wildly  to  his  breast  and  bade  her  live,  accus- 
ing himp^elf  not  her,  called  it  a  broken  heart.  As  her  child 
had  said,  "  Death  wipes  out  every  wrong."  Only  remorse, 
pity,  love  survive. 

They  buried  them  both  —  the  two  of  that  sad  name 
Dolores  —  in  the  hacienda  church.  But  one  lies  in  a 
nameless  grave,  and  the  other  is  marked  by  one  that 
recalls  a  vision  of  a  beautiful  girl,  to  whom  a  happier 
destiny  should  have  brought  the  joys  of  life,  and  whose 
proud  spirit  should  have  conquered  its  cares ;  yet  its  per- 
plexities, its  conllicting  passions,  had  made  the  pilgrimage 
so  hard,  so  set  with  thorns,  that  she  had  been  content)  — 
yes,  thankful  —  to  end  it  there :  *'  Chinita." 

In  so  short  a  life  the  unfortunate  girl  could  not  have 
wandered  far  from  heaven ;  yet  for  years  there  was  one 
on  earth  who  spent  upon  each  day  long  hours  of  prayer 
and  fasting  at  the  tomb  of  her  brother's  child, — to  the 
memory  and  the  name  of  Chinita  uniting  that  of  Leon,  and 
embracing  both  in  the  undying  love  which  looked  beyond 
the  grave  for  its  perfection  and  its  reward.  At  evening 
would  come  one  older,  but  more  peaceful  than  the  mourn- 
er, to  lead  her  home ;  and  hand  in  hand,  the  two  would 
pass  out  into  the  soft  and  tranquil  air.  Thus  Doiia  Isabel 
and  Feliz  renewed  with  tears  the  friendship  of  their  3'outh ; 
and  thus  —  ended  the  ambitions,  the  passions,  the  im- 
petuous pride,  sources  of  such  strange  and  grievous  per- 
plexities—  they  await  together  in  peaceful  gloom  the  light 
of  a  perfect  day. 


ud  of  the  high- 
s  though  BOine 
ining  from  the 

It  had  needed 
and  agony  had 
id  fatal  maladj' 
aw  her,  he  wh  j 
her  live,  accus- 
•t.   As  her  child 

Only  remorse, 

that  sad  name 
b  one  lies  in  a 
2d  by  one  that 
rhom  a  happier 
life,  and  whose 
res ;  yet  its  per- 
e  the  pilgrimage 
been  content  — 

could  not  have 
1  there  was  one 
hours  of  prayer 
child, — to  the 
lat  of  Leon,  and 
I  looked  beyond 
•d.  At  evening 
than  the  mourn- 
,  the  two  would 
hus  Dona  Isabel 
)  of  their  youth ; 
issions,  the  im- 
id  grievous  per- 
l  gloom  the  light 


XLVIII. 

It  was  thus  that  Ashley  Ward  and  his  bride  beheld 
them  in  after  years,  —  years  dunng  which  he  had  returned 
to  the  United  States  to  take  part  in  that  great  conflict 
which  had  been  raging  there  while  he  had  been  gaining 
experience  in  the  irregular  and  inglorious  strife  in  which 
his  zeal  for  lib'^rty  had  been  stimulated  by  private  aims. 
The  purity  oi  his  patriotism  was  unstained,  however,  by 
any  less  glorious  motive ;  and  during  the  last  two  years 
of  the  Civil  War  for  the  Union  there  was  none  who  fought 
more  valiantly  than  he,  nor  one  who  laid  down  his  sword 
with  a  more  just  renown,  to  dedicate  himself  to  the  pro- 
fession which  in  the  lack  of  fortune  was  both  his  choice 
and  a  positive  need. 

That  Ward  should  renounce  the  fortune  of  John  Ashley 
vras  an  actual  grief  to  Herlinda  and  to  Chata  herself,  but 
he  would  have  it  so ;  and  even  Mary  Ashley  was  pleased 
it  should  be,  although,  as  she  said,  her  niece  was  already 
most  absurdly  wealthy  in  right  of  the  Garcias  for  a  girl 
of  such  retired  and  humble  tastes,  —  one  whose  only  ex- 
travagance was  in  her  charities.  Mary  Ashley  found 
in  the  love  of  Chata  —  she  soon  abandoned  the  attempt 
to  call  her  by  the  stately  name  of  Florentina  —  a  recom- 
pense for  the  scrupulous  conscientiousness  which  had  led 
her  to  seek  the  supposed  wife  and  possible  child  of  her 
brother. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  Pope  had  ratified  her  marriage 
that  Herlinda  Ashley  visited  the  home  of  her  husband's 
family.     After  that  she  returned  at  intervals  while  Chata 


was  being  educated  as  her  aunt  desired. 


During 


that 


time  Gonzales,  from  whose  hand  Herlinda  had  received 
the  Papal  edict,  was  fighting  anew  the  battles  of  freedom 
on  his  native  soil ;  and  by  his  side,  doing  gallant  deeds 
unstained  by  crime,  was  Leon  Vallc.    But  when  the  short- 


472 


CffATA  AND  CHINITA, 


11  i 


,t   . 


i  ■ 


m 


m 


lived  empire  of  Maximilian  was  orerthrown,  when  Her- 
linda  crowned  the  long  fidelity  of  Gonzales  by  following 
tlie  rare  example  given  by  a  few  released  nuns  and  became 
the  wife  of  the  Liberal  soldier,  the  silent  yet  resolute  man 
who  had  been  his  constant  companion  in  arms  dipappeared, 
and  with  him  Pedro  Gomez. 

No  Dne  but  Rosario,  who  as  the  wife  of  Don  Alonzo 
took  the  lead  among  the  ycang  and  idle  wives  of  the  haci- 
enda employes,  asked  any  questions  concerning  the  dis- 
appearance of  Leon  Vall^.  Dofia  Rita  looked  wise,  and 
Don  Rafael  smiled  at  her,  for  she  knew  nothing,  and  could 
conjecture  nothing  that  might  bring  evil.  Rafael  was  the 
same  indulgent,  easy  husband  he  had  ever  been.  It  did 
not  occur  to  either  that  a  more  perfect  confidence  might 
have  been  observed  between  them,  —  th  had  followed 
custom;  what  more  could  be  needful? 

Chata  and  her  mother  sometimes  talked  of  Vall^  with 
wondering  pity ;  but  they  saw  that  Dofia  Isabel  was  con- 
tent, —  his  fate  was  not  a  mystery  to  her.  Perhaps  he 
was  wandering  in  foreign  countries.  At  least,  after  he 
had  gained  the  new,  fresh  fame  which  honored  the  name  of 
Leon  Vall^,  he  was  no  more  seen  in  Mexico.  There  was 
but  one  thought  that  troubled  the  heart  of  Chata.  She 
could  not,  even  for  Chinita's  sake,  forgive  the  murderer  of 
her  father. 

It  was  when  Ashley  Ward  had  gained  a  certain  assur- 
ance of  success  and  ultimate  wealth,  that  he  wooed  and 
won  the  object  of  his  early,  generous  search,  his  early  pro- 
tecting interest,  his  later  love.  In  the  heart  of  Chata  no 
rival  fiame  had  ever  glowed ;  Ashley  had  been  her  first, 
her  only  love.  And  he  perhaps  was  scarcely  conscious 
that  the  pang  which  ever  came  at  the  sound  of  one  almost 
sacred  name,  was  the  throb  of  a  scar  where  love  had  set 
its  deathless  root.  Chata  never  suspected  that  an  uncom- 
mon grief  had  made  possible  the  tranquil  happiness  which 
she  shared  with  her  husband ;  while  he  never  questioned 
even  in  his  own  soul  whether  his  happiness  would  have 
been  greater,  or  perhaps  have  been  changed  to  torture  and 
torment,  had  the  beautiful,  erratic  daughter  of  Leon  ValM 
been  spared  to  earth.  Whatever  wild  emotion  had  thrilled 
him,  Chata,  —  the  good,  the  sweet,  the  gentle  Chata,  with 
the  intelligent  and  reflective  mind,  which  curbed  and  per- 


CIIATA  AND  CHINITA. 


473 


1,  when  Her- 
by  following 
8  and  became 
,  resolute  man 
3  dipappeared, 

'  Don  Alonzo 
es  of  the  haci- 
rning  the  dis- 
ked wise,  and 
ing,  and  could 
Elafael  was  the 
been.  It  did 
ifidence  might 
had  followed 

of  Vall^  with 
sabel  was  con- 
:.  Perhaps  he 
least,  after  he 
ed  the  name  of 
p.  There  was 
f  Chata.  She 
he  murderer  of 

certain  assur- 
he  wooed  and 
,  his  early  pro- 
rt  of  Chata  no 
been  her  first, 
cely  conscious 
I  of  one  almost 
re  love  had  set 
;hat  an  uncom- 
appiness  which 
ver  questioned 
!ss  would  have 

to  torture  and 
•  of  Leon  Vall6 
on  had  thrilled 
tie  Chata,  with 

irbed  and  per- 


fected the  enduring  emotions  of  her  heart,  —  was  the  only 
woman  he  had  ever  thought  of  as  his  wife.  They  rejoiced 
in  perfect  trust  and  sympathy,  —  she  never  imagining,  he 
never  regretting,  the  more  impetuous  passion  that  might 
have  been. 

It  was  while  on  their  wedding  journey,  attended  by  an 
escort  of  soldiers,  which  the  insecurity  of  the  roads  in  the 
years  immediately  following  the  overthrow  of  the  empire 
made  necest:*.j,  :hat  they  went  into  a  remote  district 
among  the  mountains,  some  twenty  lengues  from  Vera 
Cruz,  from  which  poK  they  were  to  sail  for  their  Northern 
home.  The  captain  of  the  escort  was  a  silent,  swarthy 
young  man,  who  born  a  peasant,  had  by  his  valor  and  de- 
velopment of  extraordinary  qualities  as  a  strategist  ac- 
quired during  tbe  contest  with  the  French  a  reputation  that 
would,  had  the  incentive  of  personal  ambition  urged,  have 
made  it  possible  for  him  to  reach  the  highest  grade  of 
military  rank.  But  he  fought  for  principle,  not  for  glory ; 
to  forget  despair,  not  to  challenge  fame.  The  man  was 
Pep(5  Ortiz.  Upon  such  men,  the  t7orld  when  joy  and  love 
fail,  sometimes  thrusts  greatness.  This  was  predicted  of 
the  silent  captain. 

One  night  the  young  officer  came  to  the  inn  and  invited 
the  bride  and  groom  to  walk  with  him  in  the  moonlight. 
They  passed  through  the  streets  of  the  town,  where  the 
massive  adobe  houses,  white  as  marble  in  the  deceptive 
light,  threw  shadows  black  as  ink,  and  presently  emerged 
upon  a  paved  road,  which  led  to  a  garden  set  thick  with 
trees.  The  air  was  heavy  with  perfume ;  hundreds  of  fire- 
flies, wl.  are  the  thicket  was  so  dense  no  ray  from  the  sky 
might  penetrate,  seemed  to  fill  the  place  with  gl^ostly  fires. 
It  was  enchanting,  weird,  —  ay,  awe-inspiring.  Chata 
clunp  to  her  husband's  arm  in  mute  expectancy. 

Soon  in  the  near  distance  they  heard  a  sound  as  of 
measured  strokes,  and  a  low  continuous  moan.  The  strokes 
quickened  to  the  whizz  of  heavy  flails,  the  moan  to  the 
dirge  of  the  JUiserere.  Then  they  understood  with  a  shock 
of  horror  that  they  were  about  to  witness  one  of  the  pro- 
cessions of  penitents,  which,  though  forbidden  by  the  civil 
law,  st'*U  were  conducted  secretly  in  remote  and  fanatical 
districts.  Chata  would  have  fled,  but  the  pity  at  her  heart 
seemed  to  paralyze  her  limbs.     Ashley,  with  a  feeling 


K 


474 


CHATA   AND   CHINITA, 


'   4 


I 


I: 


J 'I     iJ 


If 


. » 


•i    r 


strangely  differing  fVom  mere  curious  expectancy,  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  awaited  the  advent  of  the  dolorous 
company. 

Presently  the  penitents  came  from  amid  the  shelter  of 
the  trees,  like  mournful  ghosts  upon  the  moonlit  road. 
They  were  all  men,  —  men  to  whom  the  memory  of  their 
sins  was  intolerable,  —  and  as  they  wallced  the}'  wielded 
the  cruel  scourges  on  their  bared  shoulders,  and  ceaselessly 
intoned  the  dirge.  It  was  past  midnight,  and  for  hours 
they  had  continued  the  dreadful  flagellation  and  the  un- 
ceasing march.  Blood  streamed  tVom  many  a  gaping 
wound ;  they  staggered  as  they  walked ;  more  than  once 
a  fainting  sufferer  fell,  and  was  lifted  to  his  feet  by  the 
man  who  walked  beside  him.  All  this  dismal  company 
were  masked ;  each  wore  a  friar's  gown  and  a  rough  shirt 
of  hair,  which  hung  pendant  from  the  girdle  at  the  waist, 
above  which  was  seen  the  cut  and  bleeding  skin. 

8iok  with  horror,  when  the  last  of  the  miserable  wretches 
had  gone  by,  Chata  leaned  sobbing  on  her  husband's 
breast.  But  he  gently  set  her  upon  the  grassy  bank  of 
the  roadside,  and  followed  by  Pep^  hastened  to  the  help 
of  a  poor  wretch,  above  whose  prostrate  form  his  faithful 
attendant  bent  with  despairing  gestures.  They  raised  the 
apparently  dying  man,  and  turned  aside  the  mask.  The 
moonlight  fell  upon  the  face  of  Leon  Valle,  worn  with 
the  passions  of  other  years  and  with  the  griefs  of  the 
present,  j'et  ndster  than  they  had  ever  beheld  it.  At  that 
moment  the  likeness  between  this  man  and  Chata  became 
in  Ashley's  eyes  peculiarly  Intensified. 

The  trembling  and  sensitive  young  wife  had  approached, 
with  an  absolute  certainty  that  something  was  transpiring 
which  was  to  touch  her  own  being.  Scarcely  surprised, 
though  with  a  shock,  she  recognized  Leon  Va\\4.  Pres- 
ently she  bent  and  kissed  him  with  tears.  From  that 
moment  Chata  had  no  secret  rancor  to  regret,  —  the 
penitent  Was  forgiven. 

*'Se8ores,  Senores,  I  pray  you  leave  us;  he  revives, 
he  will  in  a  moment  recover  consciousness,"  cried  the 
rough  voice  of  Pedro  Gomez.  With  that  complete  self- 
abnegation  which,  when  the  claims  and  interests  of  his 
seignorial  chieftain  are  involved,  is  perhaps  presented  in 
its  highest  development  by  the  Mexican  peasant^  he  had 


-CHATA   AND  CHINITA, 


475 


ancy,  put  bis 
the  dolorous 

the  shelter  of 
Doonlit  road, 
mory  of  their 
they  wielded 
id  ceaselessly 
md  for  hours 
I  and  the  un- 
iny  a  gaping 
jre  than  once 
is  feet  by  the 
imal  company 
I  a  rough  shirt 
e  at  the  waist, 
}kin. 

rable  wretches 
her  husband's 
'rassy  bank  of 
'ed  to  the  help 
rm  his  faithful 
Phey  raised  the 
e  mask.  The 
lie,  worn  with 
i  griefs  of  the 
;ld'  it.  At  that 
Chata  became 

id  approached, 
ivas  transpiring 
cely  surprised, 

Vall6.  Pres- 
From  that 

regret,  —  the 

is;  he  revives, 
iss,"  cried  the 
u  complete  self- 
nterests  of  his 
)8  presented  in 
easant<  he  had 


ignored  the  revengeful  abhorrence  with  which  the  memory 
of  Leon  Vallt^  had  for  years  inspired  him,  and  for  the 
sake  of  her  whom  he  had  loved  and  served  as  the  scion 
of  a  noble  race,  had  dedicated  his  life  to  the  father  for 
whom  she  had  gladly  died. 

As  Doiia  Feliz  had  once  done  years  before,  Chata  kissed 
with  reverence  the  hand  of  this  embodiment  of  fidelity,  and 
with  a  throbbing  heart  turned  from  the  last  scene  in  the 
drama  of  which  her  life  had  formed  a  part.  Thenceforth 
a  new  act  was  entered  upon,  in  which  deep  and  tender 
memories  and  present  peace  and  trust  are  working  out  the 
trite  but  blissful  tale  of  wedded  love. 


\N 


nnlTenity  Press :  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


